Badass in the Blood
by speederina
Summary: She never stood a chance against this Bad Blood. But, now that he's caught her, what now? Will he kill her... Or does he have a far more sinister plan? Maybe he just wants what every guy wants... Rated NC-17. Read at your own risk!
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator franchise._**

**_Warning: NC-17 rating. Contains graphic, non-consensual, interspecies sexual intercourse, with a smattering of curse words in at least two languages. Probably some descriptive violence and gore will be involved at some point. It is a Predator, after all._**

**Chapter 1**

Amber was running for her life, and failing miserably. She sobbed. That thing, that monster had to be less than ten feet behind her! She saw a low-hanging tree-limb and leaped for it, her arms stretching out over her head to grab hold and swing her into the tree. She shrieked when her leap was abruptly stopped. A massive, clawed hand grasped her calf and pulled her right back down to ground.

She could see the ground rapidly approaching her face, but she barely had time to flinch before her downward plunge stopped, with her face less than a foot from the dense undergrowth covering the ground. She grasped the undergrowth, trying to tug her leg free of its grasp. She sobbed again, helplessly, as she felt the plants slip from her grasp. It lifted her inexorably higher, until she could see its head, or at least the emotionless, black mask that covered it.

Amber's terror nearly overwhelmed her as she looked at the opaque lenses; she could barely breathe as it silently regarded her. She didn't dare scream for fear of angering it. Then she heard the soft chink of metal and she knew it was over. She could only hope it would be quick. It raised its free hand and she saw its wristblades were extended a foot out. It raised the blades and drew them along her cheek. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.

She whimpered when she felt a sharp sting on that same cheek, then two more. So much for a quick death. It seemed inclined to make her suffer first. Suddenly, the wristblades retracted and she heard a strange sound that sounded a little bit like laughter. It tossed her to the ground and began ripping her clothes off, with the help of its claws, growling at her the whole time.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noticed it had taken its mask off. Its face was... Different. The cranium was very large and covered in little black spikes on the sides. The forehead also had lines of black spots on the edges and two up the center. Its "hair" line was very high, but rather than hair, it had black tubes, similar to dreadlocks, which had gold rings on them. They reached slightly past its broad shoulders.

In place of lips, it had four mandibles with sharp tusks on the ends. They were folded in, but as it extended them slightly in a kind of leer, and she saw it had a mouth with two large fangs on top and four smaller ones on the bottom. Its eyes were deep set and light gray in color, and the pupils were rimmed with red. It had neither nose nor ears, that she could see, anyway.

It had a pale, yellow complexion, mottled with black spots in no distinguishable pattern. But its most notable feature was its enormous size; it had to be almost eight feet tall! Its body was extremely muscular, with some muscles she couldn't even identify. They certainly didn't belong on a human. Its biceps were at least half as thick around as her waist, and just one of those huge, clawed hands could snap her neck without even trying.

At last, she came out of shock long enough to realize what was going on. She screamed, long and loud, unmindful of angering it, and started pounding on its chest with her fist. It roared, fully extending its mandibles and spitting in her face. She stopped, too shocked by its display to continue. Satisfied that she was appropriately submissive, it removed its belt and codpiece, leaving the fishnet, which covered most of its body, the armor and other weapons on.

That was when she realizes there was no point in referring to the alien as an "it" because, alien or not, it was obviously a male. A male who wanted very much to mate with her. And his cock, while it was essentially the same in form, it was almost twice as big as a human's in width and length.

He had stripped with amazing efficiency, and by the time she had stopped gawking, he was flipping her over onto her stomach. She tried to slide away from him, but he kept a firm grip and bit her on the shoulder. Actually bit her, fangs and all. She gasped at the sharp sting, and stopped moving. He... purred...? And pulled her back firmly against her. She started crying softly, her back trembling.

He grasped her hips and raised them up just as he thrust into her from behind. She screamed in pain, clawing the floor futilely to get away. Though she had had ample opportunity, she had never actually had sex before, believing it was best to wait until marriage. She was greatly regretting that decision now, as his entry was excruciating. He seemed to be enjoying himself, however, if his growls of pleasure were any indication. He thrust hard and fast, bruising the soft flesh of her hips with his tight grip.

After a few minutes, the pain hadn't lessened, a fresh wave of agony returning with every thrust. Her screams had died down, though, replaced by a continuous flow of tears, accompanied by harsh sobs. At this point, she just wanted it wanted it to be over. For him to take his wristblades and end it all. She didn't know how her life could go on after this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he roared again, louder this time, almost deafening her, and bit her again. Then she felt his scalding semen jet into her, with surely more force than was natural. He sat there for a minute, breathing hard, then pulled out, making her moan in pain. She just lay there while he dressed and replaced his mask, too sore and tired to move. After a minute, he crouched down and threaded his clawed hand through her hair, lifting her head up.

He stared intently at her for a moment, and at the cuts he had made on her cheek, then tossed her over his shoulder, naked, and started running. Where, she had no clue. All of this dense jungle looked the same to her.

He ran at incredible speeds; she felt like they were going about 50 miles per hour. For Amber, it was a very painful trip, as, not only was she still hurting from his brutal rape and bite wounds, his shoulder was now digging into her stomach, making her want to throw up. She didn't try to get away. Even if she dared try to fall at this speed and height, his hand was pressed firmly on her thighs, keeping her securely on his shoulder.

Amber wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation overall. She had expected to die a long time ago, and just now, she had been sure that he would kill her, after satisfying some baser urges on her body. But, for whatever reason, she was still breathing, a fact which baffled her.

Her brooding was cut short when she realized they had stopped. From her high vantage point, she could see a pile of bodies, some of them headless, but all were mutilated beyond recognition. Amber gasped as her captor aimed the small cannon on his left shoulder and shot a blue blast of energy at the corpses, obliterating them, leaving no trace of their existence. Then he turned around and pressed some buttons on the control-pad located in his left gauntlet.

A huge, metal structure appeared in front of them. It looked a lot like a spaceship, something that didn't surprise her. She had known for a while that this thing was not human. Yes, she had known he was an alien (what else could he be?) but seeing such blatant proof before her eyes made her realize the full extent of the situation. It was not a happy realization. More like an abrupt disillusionment.

He bounded up a small ramp into the ship. The ramp retracted and the door slid shut behind them with a sound of finality. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and she began to make out features of the interior of the ship. The floor was covered in about three feet of fog, and the temperature was sweltering; it had to be in the upper 90s. The gray walls were etched with swirling designs and strange characters.

A door slid open in front of them, and suddenly, he put her down. In a cage. She leaped forward and clasped the metal bars just as the door slid shut.

"No!" she cried. "Please, don't! Just let me go! Please!" she sobbed brokenly.

He growled warningly at her, and she slunk back against the far wall, thoroughly cowed. Apparently satisfied, he strode out of the room, the door shutting behind him. A few minutes later, the ship shook slightly and she felt something similar to being in an elevator going up. Then the artificial gravity kicked in and the feeling faded. She figured the ship was taking off.

Despite the intense heat of the ship, Amber felt a cold knot in her stomach, and she knew that she would never see her home again. As she tried to get comfortable on the hard metal floor, which was much colder than the air, she thought about how she might kill herself and thereby escape this situation. She curled into a ball and hugged herself, deciding she was far too much of a coward to kill herself. Before she knew it, she was sound asleep, the numerous troubles of the day having completely worn her out.

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><p><strong>AN: **And, there you have it, my attempt at Predator fanfiction. Hopefully it wasn't total crap. I'd love to know what you think, and I give PM replies to all **_signed_** reviews. All suggestions and critiques are very welcome. I'm not extremely knowledgeable about Predators, so if I'm doing something wrong, _please tell me _and I will do my best to fix it. All canon police welcome. ;)

I can't promise for sure that I will finish this story, but it's very likely, as I'm already having a lot of fun with it. And I can promise that there will be more chapters. I'll try to update pretty often, probably every week or two. Depends on how much I like this story, but the odds are looking good in that department, so...

All in all, reviews of any type are welcome. Upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber, I don't care, just leave a review. ;) I will even welcome with open arms all flames and trolls. Flames would entertain me and I have a healthy appreciation for trolls. They make the internet go 'round as far as I'm concerned. But I've rambled enough. See you next update or (dare I hope?) in the reviews. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator franchise._**

Thanks to **Angle1**, **SaiLena**, **NewBlueTrue**, **nighthawk**, **RevDorothyL**, **Linda Chicana**, **ida-criss-wild**, **Lady Augustin**, **LiveLifeLikeNeverBefore** and **MageofApples** for all your awesome reviews! Also thanks to **darken-dreams**, **predator808**, **SaiLena** and **Willthegod** for faving my story, and thanks to **Angle1**, **CandyCoatedJunk**, **Lady Augustin**, **Linda Chicana**, **MageofApples**, **Randomlysinging**, **Showbazz** and **TheSneakyHobo** for putting it on alert! :)

Special thanks to **ida-criss-wild** for the author fave, and **DDani** for the author alert. And, to **DDani**, may I just say, welcome to the site! ;)

Also, I may not do this again, because typing all those names (and bolding them) took a really long time. :P

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 <strong>

Amber was jerked roughly awake when the alien returned and dragged her out of the cage by the hair. She yelped and started struggling, trying to remove his claws from her hair. He ignored her feeble efforts and continued dragging her through the ship.

When they finally stopped, her scalp felt like all her hair had been pulled out by the roots. He wrapped one hand around her neck and pulled her to her feet. He tossed her a few scraps of tough, yet supple leather. She caught it, barely, and examined it cautiously. Soon, she realized it was a small pair of panties and a bra. She looked at him, surprised that he would bother to clothe her. Was it possible that he had other plans for her, besides killing her, or worse, raping her to death?

When she hesitated with the clothing, wondering if there was a catch attached to this unexpected kindness, he growled softly at her.

"Put them on," he rumbled, in a deep, gravelly voice.

She gasped. He had spoken English! Impatient, he made as if to dress her himself, and she quickly slipped them on, glad for the small amount of modesty. Mollified, temporarily at least, he gripped her elbow and led her over to a giant table, which was obviously designed for someone closer to his size.

He lifted her onto the table, which was a little over four feet high. Most of her height, fact; she was about 5'5". He placed a large, metal plate on her lap. To her disgust, it was filled with unidentifiable, _raw_ meat. She didn't realize this at first, as it was black in color, prompting her to think it was perhaps over cooked. In fact, it was so raw, it was almost moving. She nearly retched. Her nausea increased when she thought about him hunting the animal this meat came from on the jungle planet they had just left. Under normal circumstances, Amber liked meat, but she didn't want to think about the cow that had contributed to the beef she consumed. And it didn't help that the meat was black, either.

All these factors led to one conclusion, and she had to shove the plate away on the table before she vomited on the floor. She didn't think he would like that. Unfortunately, he liked even less that she refused the meat. She couldn't see even a semblance of an expression, for he had replaced his mask, but his low growl clued her in. She cringed, and her fear threatened to overwhelm her once again, but somehow she managed speak past the lump in her throat.

"P-please," she choked out, "I c-can't eat that. Please, j-just cook it." She was begging now, close to tears. She hated that he made her cry all the time, showing so much weakness in front of him.

He picked up the plate and held it out in front of him. She figured he was using his mask to examine it. Finally, he held it out to her again.

"There is nothing wrong with the meat, _ooman_," he spit out. "It is free of disease and not harmful to consume, even for your weak race." His rough voice was filled with contempt.

He grabbed her neck again, lifting her off the table as he drew her face to his. She gripped his wrist, trying to release the pressure on her airway. He thrust the plate into her lap.

"You will eat this, or nothing," he said menacingly. Then he turned on his heel and strode out.

Amber watched the door slide shut behind him and tried to quell her rising hysteria. If she didn't control her emotions, and soon, she would just start screaming and never stop. Well, until he killed her. What a morbid thought.

Amber didn't want to die. Before this nightmare, she had been someone who enjoyed life and its many benefits immensely. Perhaps a little too much, but she now regretted not having enjoyed it more. How pathetic was it that she'd lost her virginity to a hideous, rutting animal? Although, she was forced to admit, animals didn't speak perfect English, or have technology more advanced than humans in every way.

Well, his technology might be advanced, but he still dressed like a barbarian. In some places, such as across the chest and belt, there were several skulls from varied animals. They ranged in size, and there was even one or two from a human, though most of them were smaller.

The metal armor looked handcrafted, with great care involved in the making. This was placed in a few strategic spots, with the rest covered by that strange fishnet. His feet had four toes in front, with a dewclaw farther back. The soles of his feet were covered by a single piece of leather that was strapped on, like very simplistic sandals.

But the rings on his "dreads" were what really made him seem like some tribal warrior from the African jungle. He had very few of them, though. And they looked rather old, as if he didn't care about them enough to keep them in good condition. The gold metal was beaten up and bent. The symbols on them were unintelligible, even if she could read them.

Then there was his mask. This was in pristine condition, although it had one long, curving scar, stretching from the forehead over the right eye lens to the left cheek, nicking the mouth on the way. It had a marking burned into the forehead, with some type of acid, perhaps. Maybe it was some sort of identification. If she went with the tribal warrior theory, perhaps it was the symbol of his tribe or clan.

Now there was a thought to terrify. Could there be more just like him? More eight foot monsters who hunted people, and whatever else they could find, for sport, collecting skulls as trophies? If there were, Amber would rather have this one kill her now than meet them. Although she had a feeling that none of them would be quite as intimidating as him. He was truly masterful at getting her nearly incoherent from pure terror. And she thought he enjoyed it, too. Enjoyed when she couldn't even form words, she was so afraid of him. Afraid he might repeat his earlier performance.

Just the thought of that brought tears of remembered pain and humiliation to her eyes. She looked herself over, finding that new bruises had formed, most prominently over her hips, where he had grabbed her, pulling her towards him... She choked back her sobs. Now was not a good time to let her emotions run wild. He could return at any moment, and if that meat wasn't eaten... The consequences were too horrible to bear thinking of.

She dashed the tears from her eyes and grasped the plate. Her knuckles went white from the force of her grip. Best to get it over with, she thought. Can't think about what's in my mouth. Grimacing, she scarfed it down as quickly as she could. It was revolting, to say the least. Several times, she had to suppress her gag reflex to keep it down.

Without warning, the door slid open, and he came in. She really needed a name for him. He looked at the plate, then at her. She thought she heard a grunt of approval. He beckoned her casually. She looked doubtfully at the floor. It was a rather high table. In two huge strides, he was inches from her, lifting her to the floor.

His giant hand dwarfed hers, and he led her from the room. His legs were so long that, even if he was walking, she had to jog unless she wanted to be dragged on the floor behind him. She had a feeling he wouldn't stop to let her get up.

They walked through a large door, into what looked like a moderately sized training room. There were some weapons on the wall, and the room was mainly just a big, open space. There were a few obstacles, and some targets scattered around the room, which had about 50 square feet of floor space. The ceiling was about 20 feet high. The walls and floor were padded.

He led her to the edge of the room. Across the room from the door, she noticed. He shoved her down to the floor.

"Sit," he rumbled.

She obeyed, trying to make herself as small as possible on the floor. He watched her for a moment, just to make sure that she wasn't going anywhere, before he turned away and headed for the middle of the room.

He took a metal shaft from his back, about two and a half feet long and two inches in diameter. Suddenly, it extended, gaining two feet on either side, and the ends sharpened into spear tips. The middle was decorated with several small skulls and other bones from various animals. It had leather strips wound around it, to give the user a better grip. .

He began twirling it, and after that, her eyes could no longer track his movements. He jumped and flipped, spinning around with no warning and obliterating anything in his path. Within 20 seconds, he had demolished every target and surpassed every obstacle in the entire room. It was another 10 seconds before she remembered to close her mouth, which was hanging open in awe.

She had never had a chance against him. He must have been playing with her the whole time, making her believe she might get away, before cruelly dashing her hopes.

He trained for several hours, sometimes switching weapons, sometimes using none and relying on his body's natural weapons. After about a half hour, Amber's eyes began to droop and she curled up on the floor, falling asleep within a minute or so.

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><p>Syra'thwei crouched down and surveyed the peacefully slumbering ooman. She was so tiny, so delicate. He couldn't even imagine being an ooman. He would rather suffer a dishonorable death than live as a pyode amedha. It must be a living hell, with nearly every other creature in the universe stronger than them in some way.<p>

Syra shuddered. How ironic that he, out of all the Yautja in his clan, should have been chosen for such a mission. His "clan" was made up of various Bad Bloods, cast out by their own clans, who formed their own separate society. The Leaders, elected from their members by popular vote, had chosen him. What had they been thinking?

All his clan mates knew of his disdain for oomans. The females were good for a quick pauk every now and then, and the males could, on occasion, make for an interesting hunt, but for the Leaders' purposes? They would be better off using a wild jar'ak. At least they were cleaner.

And yet, as he regarded the small form at his feet, he felt strangely protective. He still had no qualms about using her in whatever way he wished, but he didn't like the thought of another Yautja doing the same, especially one of his clan mates. They wouldn't understand where the line was, the one that couldn't be crossed without permanently damaging her, mentally and physically.

He didn't respect her at all; respecting any ooman was difficult, let alone a female. He would leave that to the "Honorable" warriors of his previous clan. If one were to compare ooman and Yautja females, the result was almost laughable. On one hand, you had aggressive, assertive females, who were often much larger than the average male. They were responsible for initiating all sexual encounters, and the males had to prove to them, by way of hand-to-hand combat, that they were the best father for the female's future pups. And after that, the male still had to subdue the female long enough to actually spill his seed. With all that, sometimes pauking an ooman was a refreshing change.

The ooman females were usually meek and timid, deferring to the the males for most things. In size, they were the opposite of the Yautja, and their male counterparts were usually about a foot taller, though both ooman and Yautja heights had large variation. In sexual encounters, it was true that the males still competed, but it was mainly verbally, and after one was selected, the female submitted willingly.

And, of course, there was always the shortcut of rape, which he, himself had no qualms about using, or _abusing,_ you could say. Among his people, such a thing could never happen, although, a Bad Blood such as himself was always apt to try. It was simply doubtful that the male would win, for the Yautja females received just as much combat training as the males, and, due to their greater size and strength, it was not uncommon for a female to kick the c'jit out of a male in a fair fight.

He tried to imagine this little female doing the same. He trilled softly in laughter and she stirred on the floor. She didn't awaken, just shifted on the floor. She curled up next to his legs, clutching them. For comfort? He knew that oomans craved contact with others of their race, much more so than the Yautja. His was a solitary race and they rarely interacted with touch, believing it showed weakness. When they did touch each other, it was often a shove on the shoulder, signaling a challenge.

And yet, he found it oddly endearing on her. Strangely enough, he was beginning to like having this ooman around. Her weakness made him feel powerful, a rare reaction with his race, because the females were almost always stronger than the males. This female could be a rare find, and he was finding himself rejecting the idea of handing her over to the Leaders.

Syra checked himself. He was becoming as sentimental as an ooman, he thought in disgust. He stood up and nudged her with his foot. She didn't move, and he growled impatiently. He cupped her face, claws digging into her cheeks, and shook her. She came awake slowly, stretching languorously, until she noticed the his sharp claws cutting into her face. She cried out in pain, opening her eyes to find herself staring into his black mask. It seemed to overshadow everything else in the room.

She jerked, trying to get away. His claws dug in, making five long scratches down her cheeks as she scrambled away from him. He released her, enjoying her wary expression as she shrank away. Syra clicked his mandibles together, beckoning her. As he slowly approached her, in a stalking motion reminiscent of a cat's, she slid backward along the wall, cowering away from him. She knew what he wanted, and she had no intention of lying on her back, or stomach, as it were, and spreading her legs at his command.

She knew she would lose, but she had to try. She had to fight him.

She scrambled up, unconsciously moving into a fighting stance, bending her knees slightly, and ready to bolt at the slightest aggressive move on his part. Under the mask, Syra's mandibles moved into the Yautja version of a smile. This was what he knew. A female ready to fight him for the right to mate with her. The females of his own pseudo-clan were few and far between. And the few could easily fend off the lusty males. They were like the female convicts placed into the men's prison on Earth; they had to have done something pretty bad to get there, and they had to be strong to not get caught by the arbitrators.

This one fact made their ostracized society totally different from the rest of the Yautja. It narrowed the gene pool down to a few favored males who were either strong enough to overpower the females, or chosen personally to father their sucklings. So what did the rest of them do?

It didn't take long for the pyode amedha to become a valid option. And of course, being Bad Bloods, the majority of which didn't have much respect for lou-dte-kalei in general, they were hardly likely to treat the oomans with any deference. In other words, courting was out. The very idea was laughable. Competing for their attention was also out. There were so many oomans, what would be the point of fighting over one?

Another aspect was that they had begun mating purely for pleasure. It was very difficult, nearly impossible for a Yautja to reproduce with an ooman woman. But when his clan had first tried, they had discovered how pleasurable it was to mate with an ooman. It was easier, for one. And for two, well... The difference in size was very advantageous to them.

Most had taken to capturing oomans that pleased them in some way, and keeping them on their ship at all times. Syra had briefly considered doing this, but had decided against it eventually. He wasn't so interested in sex as to go to the trouble of keeping a sex slave on his ship, always at his disposal. He was much more interested in hunting (and killing) the pyode amedha than wasting his seed on such feeble creatures, most of whom wouldn't even become pregnant as a result. His attitude, however, was beginning to change. Perhaps he would find another girl for the Council. They weren't too picky, after all, and probably wouldn't care too much if he kept this girl to himself.

It would mean going back to Earth, though. He would have to give it some thought. There was plenty of time; the Leaders weren't in any hurry for him to get back.

In the meantime, though, Syra turned his thoughts to the situation at hand, and the little ooman who was defying him.

Time to teach her who was n'yaka-de here.

Syra copied her movements, his stance widening as her slowly herded her into a corner. Her eyes darted around, looking for an opening where she could get around him and, with luck, into a smaller room where he couldn't use his size as an advantage. If there even was such a room on this ship. Everything here was a lot more accommodating to his size than hers.

When she saw her opening, she didn't hesitate, she ran for it, attempting to slide underneath his outstretched arm. He almost laughed. She telegraphed everything, leaving him plenty of time to lower his arm so it wrapped securely around her stomach, stopping her in mid-slide. He picked her up with the same arm, lifting her to his chest so she was dangling almost two feet off the floor.

She huffed as he caught her, the air rushing from her lungs in one motion. She struggled madly against him when he lifted her off the floor, flailing uselessly with her arms and legs. She soon stopped when his arm tightened, cutting off her breathing. He pressed her to his cock, which had been stirred by her struggles, and purred. All his instincts were telling him to subdue her, to make her submit to him, then mate with her.

She stilled completely as she felt his desire, whether in terror or awe, he couldn't tell. He decided it was terror when she began fighting again, even more insanely this time. The smell of her fear was pungent, and Syra didn't like it anymore. If he raped her now, he would feel as though he had kicked a little, helpless animal. His instinct screamed at him again, eager for any female, no matter how willing. He hesitated a moment. Somehow, he knew that this was the line, and if he crossed it, she would never be the same.

Pauk his instinct.

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><p><strong>AN****:** Yay! The new chapter is both longer and up faster than you thought! Don't get used to it though, 'cause I have two 5 page papers to write in two weeks. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

All sentiments from last chapter regarding reviews apply to this one too. I reply to all _**signed**_ reviews and any and all critiques are welcome. I'll take everything under advisement. And I've done a lot of editing, so please point out any plot holes and continuity errors.

Here are the translations in order of appearance:

ooman: slang for human

Syra'thwei: Head-Blood. You can interpret that name however you want. Honestly, I just thought it sounded cool.

pyode amedha: soft meat (formal name for humans)

jar'ak: made up animal who bears a close relation to a pig

pauk(ing): fuck(ing)

c'jit: shit

lou-dte'kalei: child maker (derogatory slang for females)

n'yaka-de: master

That is all. If you expect a pronunciation guide... Well, you're nuts. See you in the reviews! :D


	3. Chapter 3

****_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise._****

Hi everyone! I know it took awhile, but this chapter was kinda tough and I've been pretty busy with school. But nevertheless, I managed to get out another 3000 word chapter. Yay! :)

I want to thank **mizukikage**, **RevDorothyL**, **Lady Augustin**, **Linda Chicana**, **CandyCoatedJunk**, **Khalthar**, **Angle1**, **SaiLena**, **ida-criss-wild**, **Zyra**, **Luv4Uncas**, **LiveLifeLikeNeverBefore**, **Luthinea**, **Blood Shifter2**,** IAmAltair** and **XxSilentEmpathxX** for all your awesome and encouraging reviews which made me write faster, plus provided me with some entertaining conversations. Honestly, some of you guys' comments... I just had to laugh.

Anyways, also thank you to all the other people who alerted and faved my story. Sorry, but it really would take forever to mention all of you. But know that you have my eternal gratitude. ;) But I'm sure you're all eager to start reading, so... Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

When the enormous alien picked her up and pressed her hips to his, she felt a myriad of emotions. Strangely, her first feeling was intense desire. If he were human, there would be no doubt in her mind of her next move. Then she remembered that he was very much not human, and decided she would rather not be impaled with that massive appendage again. That had been a decidedly unpleasant experience.

She struggled wildly, kicking and scratching, and biting where she could reach. Not that it made any difference. He was completely unaffected by her attack, holding her easily. Worse, she could feel him lengthening beneath her. She was just about to give up in despair, bracing herself for whatever would follow, when...

He dropped her.

She was so shocked, her knees collapsed, and she landed hard on her hands and knees. When she scrambled to her feet, he was gone, and the door to the training room was open. Her mouth hung open in amazement. She had been granted a reprieve, apparently, from his amorous attentions. Perhaps he didn't like when she fought him. But that didn't explain his abrupt departure and (dare she say it?) apparent sulking. Surely, if he was annoyed with her for not submitting as she had earlier, he would have punished her.

Amber was thoroughly confused, but decided not to question this miracle, as it were, and instead take advantage of the situation. After all, though she had forgotten for a moment, she was in a room that was filled with weapons. If she could just find one small enough to wield... Concealing it was out of the question; she didn't have enough clothing to cover herself, let alone a weapon.

That said, her attack would have to be swift; if she could surprise him before he realized she was armed, she might have a chance of at least injuring him. And then what, she asked herself. So he would be injured. Even with a stab wound, he was still more than capable of handing her her ass on a platter. Or her head, spine still attached, courtesy of his wristblades. But she had to try something, _anything_, and she had to do it fast. He could return any second now. Surely he would remember that he had left her alone in a room in which the walls were covered in deadly knives, spears, and even one of those plasma guns, like the one on his shoulder.

Wait, a plasma gun? She smiled as, slowly, a plan came into form in her mind. It just might work...

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><p>A loud crash resounded as Syra's fist made contact with the wall.<p>

"Pauk!" he snarled.

How could one little ooman get under his skin like this? He was a Bad Blood, and already he was considering keeping her. Which would mean turning his ship around and heading back to earth so he could find another pyode amedha to take her place. A tedious task, to be sure, and one he would rather avoid. He had to get this lou-dte'kalei out of his head somehow, and fast, before he became any more attached to her.

There was no way he was going back to that disgusting ooman planet for a replacement. And if he wanted to make use of her body for whatever small diversion he could get out of it, he would do so, with or without her participation. What did he care for her feelings, after all? It wasn't as if she could retaliate, as the females of his own race would.

As he justified his actions to himself, Syra began to calm, which was a good thing for the wall of his sleeping quarters. Unfortunately, at that moment, he recalled where he had left the ooman. His eyes widened behind the mask, and he almost ran out of the room. He didn't think she would dare to raise a weapon against him, but he had a sivk'va-tai in that room. If she found out how to use it...

He cursed his carelessness. How could he have been so stupid? This accursed ooman made him hulij-bpe, to leave her in the kehrite unsupervised. From now on, she was staying in the cage, unless she felt like ...pleasing him.

His face sported an ugly grin as he cautiously entered the kehrite. He looked around, and quickly lost his smile when he saw no one. Where was the bitch hiding? Tendrils of dread snaked through him as he heard the high-pitched whine of a sivk'va-tai powering up behind him. Slowly, he turned to face her. His mask cheerfully informed him that she had, indeed, discovered how to use his spare sivk'va-tai, and that it was, in fact, targeted on him. It went on to say that he might consider getting out its range as soon as possible. Syra didn't move. He simply stared at her, waiting to see what she would do. So she could use it. That didn't mean she would have the guts to do so.

She looked nervous enough to fire it accidentally, however, and he didn't want to spook her. One shot in the right place from that thing and he could find himself without a head. An outcome that was to avoided at all costs. If he was missing his head, he couldn't punish her for such an idiotic move. Oh yes, he was looking forward to that. But first things first: get that weapon out of her shaking hands.

"D-don't move," she stuttered, trying to sound commanding, but failing. Her order was pointless anyway, as he was already motionless.

On the surface, he appeared completely relaxed – his stance was normal, his hands were at his sides – but underneath, his muscles were coiled to spring, and he tensely waited to see what she would do.

But if he was tense, she was terrified. He could smell the sour tang of fear from her. Good. She had reason to fear him and what he would do when she was no longer in possession of that deadly weapon.

So when she ordered him not to move, he merely stared at her, trying to break down whatever meager courage she retained. Unfortunately, his plan backfired, appearing instead to make her _gain_ confidence rather than losing it. She squared her shoulders, and her chin went up stubbornly.

"Turn around, she ordered coldly, "and walk slowly out the door."

This enraged him, and he almost disregarded the gun in her hands and charged her. He clenched his fists, claws gouging into his palms, and , with some difficulty, controlled his anger. He turned around, and began to head out of the room.

He would have just blasted her to smithereens with his own sivk'va-tai, but the simple fact was, he didn't want any explosions going on inside his ship, whether from him or her. He had killed a lone hunter for this ship, and it was fully outfitted with everything a Yautja out on his own for years at a time would need. As such, it was extremely valuable, and he took great care to keep it in pristine condition. He certainly didn't need plasma explosions blowing giant holes in it from the inside.

His strides were longer than hers, and she had to jog to keep up, as they moved slowly (to him at least) out of the room.

"Slow down!" she yelled at him, pointing the gun at his back threateningly.

Reluctantly, he curbed his stride, allowing her to catch up. They continued like this through the ship until they reached the room where he had intended to keep her for the duration of the trip. The cage seemed to gleam tauntingly at him, and he growled low. He spun around to face her, unbelieving that she would actually do this. He roared at her in rage.

She trembled, but raised her voice to be heard above his, and shouted at him, "Get in the fucking cage, you son of a bitch!"

What had she just called him? Oh, she was going to pay for that one. Finally, he stopped roaring and opened the cage. He climbed inside, hunching over it was not quite big enough to accommodate his large frame. He huffed quietly. _Fucking_ cage, was it? Well, he hadn't thought so, but now that she mentioned it... He would be sure to give her a good pauking once he was out of here. Underneath the mask, he smiled without humor, until her voice shook him out of his grim reverie.

"Shut the door," she ordered.

He complied, with no more than a low growl, and she came over and locked it. She backed up and let out a deep sigh, then seemed surprised to find she'd been holding her breath. She went to the far side of the room and slid down the wall, sitting down with her knees grasped in front of her. She took a shaky breath, then began to laugh and laugh, until her laughter turned to tears and she laid her head between her knees and sobbed.

Syra was thoroughly confused. He could understand the laughter. It enraged him, but he could understand why she would be happy, even gloating that she had bested him. But tears? Why was she sad? He shook his head, making his black, tube-like hair click together as it swung around, and dismissed her. He turned his back to her as he attempted to pace the small space of the cage. He tried to ignore the pitiful sniffling noises she was making and concentrate on a plan to escape, and, more importantly, get her under his control again.

Hopefully, he could accomplish this before the ship, which was locked on a set course, could arrive at it's destination. He wasn't worried about her changing it; it was impossible for anyone but the owner (him) to change a locked course on this ship, for security reasons, of course. But if his clanmates ever found out that he had been outsmarted, even for a moment, by his own ooman captive, he would never live it down. He couldn't even imagine what would happen if the ship docked and they found him in her cage while she had the run of the ship.

His reputation would be gone, never to return.

He shuddered to think of the repercussions of such an outcome. He had to get out of here, fast. But the cage had originally been designed with the kainde amedha in mind, and was solid d'lex, the same material as the weapons she had so carelessly forgotten to relieve him of. Unfortunately, unless he cared to destroy his ship with a few shots from his sivk'va-tai, none of his weapons would cut through this metal.

Perhaps his mask could hack into the lock somehow... But no, the lock was manual. He would have to pick it himself, a difficult and tedious task, for the lock was made to be kainde amedha-proof. In other words, he could do it, but it would take time, time when she wasn't in the room with him. Perhaps he could anger her into leaving. Or maybe she would just shoot him.

Well, he had to try.

* * *

><p>As Amber laughed in relief and triumph, she felt as if a dam had burst inside her, and suddenly, she was sobbing her heart out. She cried for her lost home, for the life she would probably never get back. She cried in self-pity, over the hopelessness of her situation. Even if the bastard was caged, she knew it was only temporary, and fact was, she had no idea what to do now. She had been running on half-assed, Hail Mary plans and adrenaline so far, and frankly, she was amazed she had gotten this far. She had expected to be dead by this point, or worse. But now that she had "won," she was finally running out of the energy and the inclination to keep going.<p>

She was tired. She had been raped, dragged around by her hair, and had the equivalent of a brick hit her in the stomach when he had stopped her desperate flight earlier. More than anything, she just wanted to curl up in her bed in her little apartment in downtown New York, and _sleep_. The short naps she had gotten so far could only suffice for so long, and she was wearing thin. Not to mention, she had gotten very little sleep over the past few weeks, being so busy with her work. She was an anthropologist, specializing in ethnography, and she had been heading to a site in Brazil, deep in the Amazon, where there was supposedly an undiscovered tribe.

There were certain companies that wanted to do some oil exploration in the same general area, and she had been hired by an environmentalist group to prove their existence either way, therefore preventing any further action by the oil companies. She had been under explicit orders not to contact them in any way. She was simply to go there, find them (or not), and report back. The people who hired her believed that the rare people who had managed to remain isolated from modern civilization should be able to remain that way. Amber didn't exactly agree with that sentiment, but it was a job, and it payed a sizable salary, which was lucky in her chosen field.

But when Amber had agreed to the job, she had never expected to be "contacted," so to speak, by another race far modern advanced than humans' modern civilization. If she'd had her way, she would have remained blissfully ignorant of the existence of creatures powerful enough to completely wipe out humans, if they so wished. At least, that's what she'd gathered from her brief stay here, and her interaction with her captor, before and after her abduction.

Now she understood somewhat why this undiscovered tribe might not want to find out that there were billions of people around them who were laughing at their primitive way of life. It was a harsh awakening to realize just how much bigger the world was than you'd thought. To go from their small world in the Amazon Rainforest, to a world filled with people and technology they'd never even dreamed of was quite similar to her own predicament; it wasn't a very nice feeling when you were suddenly informed that the universe didn't revolve around humans. And that their neighbors liked to hunt humans and use their skulls as trophies.

My god, she thought, how long have these things been coming to Earth with no one ever realizing it? Maybe the theories about aliens building the pyramids were true. She could totally understand how they could be worshiped as gods by the primitive humans of the time. Hell, she could almost imagine them as gods. Or him, at least. His powerful body certainly rivaled that of a god, and combined with his weapons, he was unstoppable. Watching him train had been like watching an Olympic figure skater, if figure skaters wore fishnet and carried six-and-a-half foot spears. It was like a deadly dance, all carried out in the space of a minute.

Amber suddenly realized that she had stopped crying, and was staring off into space with a dreamy look in her eyes. She stopped her herself from sighing just in time.

He was staring at her again, but she felt no malevolence in his gaze this time. He seemed... curious.

She started. "What the hell are you staring at?" she said accusingly, inexplicably feeling defensive. Perhaps it was because the space she had been staring at was the cage and, more specifically, him.

"Could ask you the same thing, bitch," he sneered.

"Don't call me that! I'm the one who has the gun here, remember?"

He huffed. "As if you'd ever use it."

She gasped. He was dismissing her? Just like that? Well, she'd show him. "As if I- You bastard! You seemed pretty sure I'd do it when you walked right into that cage." He growled, and she went on, her voice rising in volume. "You want me to use it? Well, why don't I just shoot you right now? Wouldn't my life be a whole lot easier without you around?"

"Go ahead. Then see if you can get back to your planet without my help."

"Oh, yeah right. Like I'm gonna fall for that. Come on, it can't that hard to fly this thing. It has an autopilot, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does, and right now, that autopilot is set for my clanship, and I'm the only one who can change the course. How much good do you think one sivk'va-tai will do against thousands of my race? You'd be better off using it to end your pathetic life."

"W-what?" she whispered, stunned. "No, y-you're bluffing!"

"See for yourself." He gestured towards the door.

She looked at the door, clearly wanting to leave, but still reluctant. She looked back at him. "How do I know you're not just going to bust out of there as soon as I'm gone?"

"I don't want you blowing holes in my ship, that's why. Even if you miss me, you could still hit something important."

When she still hesitated, he snarled at her, "Well? Are you going, or not? Believe me, you don't want my clanmates to find you with free run of my ship. However bad you think I am, they're ten times worse. I, at least, still retain some small honor from days long past. They do not."

Syra thought he saw a spark of fear in the ooman's eyes, and when she gazed at the door again, he knew this time she would leave.

Sure enough, she started backing up, stopping at the door for one more glance at him, before turning and heading off to look for the ship's controls. In completely the wrong direction. He almost laughed. That should give him a little more time to get past the lock on this cage.

While he worked carefully on the complicated lock, using a combination of his claws and wristblades to jiggle the mechanism, he marveled at how easy it had been to deceive her. By telling her a slightly doctored version of the truth, while at the same time implying that he would help her pilot the ship back to Earth, he had easily gotten her out of the room, giving him plenty of time to escape.

And when he escaped... He would make her rue the day she had ever been born. He grinned in anticipation.

* * *

><p>Well, what d'ya know? It's another cliffhanger. And I'll have you know, it was actually pretty hard to decide just where to stop the chapter for the maximum effect. I work at this, you know. They don't grow cliffhangers on trees. :P<p>

Here are the translations is order of appearance:

pauk(ing): fuck(ing)  
>ooman: human<br>pyode amedha: soft meat; refers to humans  
>lou-dte'kalei: child-maker; derogatory slang for females<br>sivk'va-tai: plasma caster/shoulder cannon  
>hulij-bpe: crazy<br>kehrite: training hall/dojo  
>kainde amedha: hard meat; refers to xenomorphs<p>

If I missed anything, let me know. And if you feel like showing your appreciation and brightening my day with a review, the buttons right there. See you next chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.**_

**anonimous:** No, you've misunderstood. He dropped her and ran off because he was having some very unfamiliar emotions that he didn't like. He didn't want to rape her, but he also didn't want to not want to rape her, if that's not too confusing. His response was to go off and punch a wall. And she never stopped fighting. She was about to, but he dropped her before she gave up.

Okay, peoples, here chapter 5! Thanks to **XxSilentEmpathxX**, **Wereberus**, **predator808**, **IAmAltair**, **GoblynQueen**, **NewBlueTrue**, **Lady Augustin**, **kininu**, **Linda Chicana**, **anonimous **and **mizukikage** for reviewing. You haven't realized it yet, but you've actually saved humanity. ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

It didn't take Amber long to realize she was completely turned around. She couldn't believe she had just walked out of there without even asking him where the ship's controls were. And she was far too stubborn to go back now and ask. That would be too humiliating for words, not to mention, she wasn't even sure she could _find_ her way back. She was royally screwed.

She stopped, trying to calm her rising panic. She just had to go about this methodically, then she could find her way back to familiar hallways. Deep breaths. In, out. Okay. You're okay.

Amber looked at the T-intersection in front her; one hallway leading left, the other, right. Left was as good a direction as any, she supposed, heading down the left hallway. It ended in single door, which slid open as she approached. One look at its contents had her slack-jawed.

It was a medium-sized room; about 20 square feet. It was covered, wall-to-wall, with skulls. Surprisingly, only a few of them were human; most of them were totally alien. There was one recurring type, though. It was very elongated, slightly banana-shaped, and quite eyeless. It had extremely sharp teeth, plus a tongue that doubled as an inner jaw. The teeth were coated in some kind of silver enamel, and they glistened ominously.

Scarier still, there was a variation on this eyeless creature. Its colossal skull held a place of honor, mounted on the far wall facing the door, with the smaller versions surrounding it. The main difference that she could discern, besides its size, was a huge, intricate crown. The only thing she could think to compare it to was moose antlers. She snorted. That was a fucking scary pair of antlers.

The other skull that held a place of honor in the room, was one from her captor's own race. There were a few more of them scattered around the room, but none as impressive as this one. It still had its hair attached, for one, and for two, it was, again, bigger. The dreads, unlike her captor's, had countless gold bands covering them, all of which, like the skull, were in pristine condition. The mandibles were spread in a furious roar, and it seemed to Amber that its empty eye sockets were somehow pointed in her direction. She could almost feel its gaze upon her. Strange though, the feeling originated from the back of her neck, and she was facing it, so unless it had eyes in its head...

She spun around, aiming the gun forward as she did so. She gasped to find directly behind her. He caught her wrist, effectively stopping her from pointing her weapon anywhere but the ceiling. One clawed hand wrapped around her neck and he raised her about a foot in the air, ignoring her wild kicks and punches with her other hand. Then his other hand tightened, quickly becoming painful. She whimpered, but refused to let the gun drop. She let loose a strangled scream as her wrist snapped with a horrible cracking sound. She felt nauseated when she saw the odd angle it was sitting at. The gun dropped from her lifeless fingers, clattering the onto the floor.

She shrieked when he cruelly applied more pressure to her now-broken wrist. He laughed sadistically, then dropped her on the floor. She curled into a ball, cradling her wrist as she sobbed in pain. He removed his mask for the first time since they'd left Earth, and placed it on the skull she'd been admiring. He stretched his mandibles, then pulled them into a sneer.

"I should kill you now, tarei'hsan," he spat, "but that would be too easy. No, I'm going to make you suffer until you beg for u'sl-kwe."

"No," she sobbed. "D-don't! I'm sorry!"

He didn't even appear to have heard her. His eyes glittered in rage as he tore off her scanty clothing – the small leather apparel he had given her earlier. She scrambled for the dropped gun a few feet from her reach, but he saw her intention and kicked it away. She looked up at him, looming over her, then began to scramble in the other direction, away from him. Far away from him. She knew that look in his eyes now, and other, more obvious indicators clued her in to his current mood.

Her retreat was stopped by the wall, and the giant, crowned skull which was mounted on it. It was at least six feet long including the crown, which was over four feet across at its widest point. He looked at her, backed up against his most prized trophy, and his eyes went black, pupils extended so far, there was almost no iris visible. He strode up to her, growling, and lifted her up so she was sort of straddling the thinnest part, just above the deadly jaws, putting her hips at about the same level as his.

Amber didn't fight him, just went limp and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about what would happen next. She didn't have to wait long. He quickly stripped, the process reminding her of the last time he had done this, and she shuddered. Then he was inside her, and soon enough, it was over. She let out a shaky sigh of relief as he pulled out, letting her slide to the floor, where she crumpled, too sore to move. But that relief didn't last long.

He righted his clothing, keeping hers, and replaced his mask. Then he twisted his hand into her hair, getting a firm grip before he dragged her out of the room, stopping to pick up the plasma cannon on his way out. She yelped in pain, and he yanked on her hair, sending her a clear signal – to shut up. She set her teeth and bit her tongue the rest of the way. With his long strides, they reached the cage room in no time, but she was surprised when he kept going, not even giving the door a second glance. Her stomach tightened in dread. If not the cage, what then? Did he intend to start fulfilling his promise of pain right now?

He stopped at another door a ways away. It slid open, and she realized this must be his quarters. They were filled with more skulls, most of them less impressive than the ones in the other room. There was one, though, that she found very strange. It was markedly humanoid, but had a few "extras" that certainly didn't belong on a human skull. One of those was a trunk, about a foot long, and there were also small tusks beside its mouth, which was similar to that of an elephant. Amber wondered if there wasn't perhaps some planet filled with a race descended from elephants. What a strange thought.

He interrupted her musings when he tossed her onto a surprisingly luxurious pallet of furs, pulling out a goodly amount of her hair in the process. She caught herself on her right arm, the one with the broken wrist, and she gasped, trying not to throw up from the intense pain. Her vision swirled black, but somehow she kept from fainting, though she almost regretted it. Meanwhile, he went across the room and picked up a metal chain that was attached to the wall. She realized his intention and her eyes filled with horror.

She looked up at him pleadingly, but her eyes only met his implacable face of mask. There was a smooth metal collar on one end of the chain, and her heart sank as he fit it around her neck, locking it seamlessly with a click. It was a perfect fit, with about a half-inch of room on the sides. He stood up, regarding her for a moment, then left the room. The door slid shut with a final sound that matched her thoughts.

She started crying quietly. Now she had truly sunk the lowest – chained up with a collar like a misbehaving pet. That was all she was to him. A pet; a toy that he occasionally wanted to have sex with. And how pathetic was she, lying there sobbing over her sad plight?

She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she took stock of her situation. The first thing she noticed, obviously, was her wrist. It was extremely swollen and painful, and already bruised in an ugly rainbow of yellows and purples all around the break, which was a little over an inch down from the actual wrist joint. When she tried to move it, pain shot through her entire forearm and her hand. It wasn't a compound fracture, thank God, so the bone wasn't poking through. It still hurt like hell, though. What she wouldn't give for some morphine... It hurt so bad, she didn't even feel the host of other scratches and bruises she had incurred while he was hunting her in the jungle, and while she was under his care. And what a tender care it was, she thought sarcastically.

She sighed frustratedly, then winced at the pain from her throat. She guessed she must have a ring of bruises around that too, from when he was holding her up by her throat. She didn't want to splint her wrist, in case the bone wasn't lined up right. If it healed wrong, she could end up deformed for the rest of her life. But if she didn't do anything, it could heal even more deformed, if it healed at all. Dammit! She wasn't a doctor! What did she know about treating broken bones? She'd just have to leave it alone for now and hope for the best.

Amber looked around the room, not really seeing anything of note. There were a few weapons on one wall, but even if she could reach them with the chain, she wouldn't even consider using them against him. He had successfully eradicated any remaining rebellious inclinations; she was completely done with that plan. The current plan was: do whatever the fuck he says, without question.

Although, with his current mood, she didn't really think that would help her at all. But resisting was just too hard; all it gained her was pain, and more pain. And if that wasn't enough, another heaping serving of pain should do the trick. Well, she'd gotten her heaping serving, and it didn't feel very good. Who was she, after all, to be fighting a battle of wills with a him? He was a goddamn alien, superior to her in every way. Every way that mattered, at least. What mattered compassion, anyway? It certainly had no bearing in her current situation.

All she had to do to survive, intact both mentally and physically, was to detach herself. As long as she didn't care what happened to her, she could force herself to play the willing whore, attentive to his every whim. If she could just figure out how to retreat deep into her mind when he was around... If she could do that, she knew she could get through this.

Amber decided to practice by getting some sleep while she had this undoubtedly brief reprieve. Maybe if she got some rest, she would have a little more energy, and be more prepared to deal with him, when he came back. Maybe she would stop thinking about how easy it would be to take one of those knives on the wall and plunge it into her heart.

* * *

><p>...Wow, I don't think I actually have anything to say. Oh yeah, I'm actually typing this on my iPhone. How awesome is that? Not that awesome, as it turns out. It's really hard to work in this fanfiction's texteditor with this tiny screen. And autocorrect is at its worst right now, too. Stupid, $&amp;#%€£ autocorrect. Anyway... Review if you like. :)<p>

**Edit:** Oh my gosh! I just realized I totally forgot the translations! Sorry guys, that's what happens when you do on your iPhone after getting three hours of sleep. I feel like a zombie...

tarei'hsan: small insect/unworthy opponent  
>u'sl-kwe: final rest; death<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise._  
><strong>

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

This is my Christmas present to all of my awesome and faithful readers. There's also a little something else. I wrote a Christmas Special for this fic, which you can find on my profile if you care to look. I worked really hard on both of these, even on Christmas Eve, so I really hope you like them. I got major writer's block on this chapter, but I finally finished it, and I'm really happy with it. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (especially the end ;)).

Thanks to **IAmAltair**, **Linda Chicana**, **predator808**, **Wereberus**, **amber**, **anonimous**, **mizukikage**, **hippyflowerp**, **ida-criss-wild**, **Katherine**, **Wommera**, **Cc**, **Angle1**, **wynter89**, **Lady Augustin**, **ShadowsInLight**, **Luv4Uncas**, **FOUNDinLOVEx3** and **Luthinea**. You guys are so awesome, I can't even... Just, wow. You blow my mind. :) I'm so looking forward to my own Christmas present of reviews tomorrow.

**amber**: Is that really your name? 'Cuz if it is... Well, I can't decide if that's weird or creepy...

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Syra was still seething in anger as he stormed out of his room after having assured himself that his captive wouldn't be escaping anytime soon. She was mostly unhurt as yet, but he had no intention of letting her escape without the promised retribution. But before he could get to that, there were a few things to take care of around the ship. Namely, tidying up after her little escapade.

The cage needed to be cleaned and the weapons returned to the kehrite. Plus, there was undoubtedly blood spattered around his trophy room and trailing along the hall where he had dragged her. Syra headed there first. Sure enough, there was blood smeared on the floor inside and outside the room. There was an easy solution for that, however. He used his mask, which connected to the ship's controls, and used the cleaning feature, flooding the floor briefly with a potent solvent. He stepped onto one of the trophy stands while it worked, as it was acidic enough to burn his skin with prolonged contact.

That done, he examined the rest of the room for any blood or dirt he had overlooked. Syra froze as he came face to face with the skull of the kainde amedha queen. It was the one he had pauked the ooman on, and it was smeared with a mixture of her blood and his semen. Syra shook his head; he couldn't believe he had pauked her on his most prized trophy. What had possessed him? And yet, looking at it now and remembering how she had looked straddling the skull, him pounding into her, he felt his member rise.

Were he still an Honored warrior, that would have been something he would have done with a Yautja female, and it would have aroused her as much as it did him. But why had he done such a thing with an ooman? He certainly wasn't courting her, so why had he felt so proud to see her open-mouthed in awe as she looked at his many trophies? He had even felt… somewhat possessive. Which was ridiculous, of course. It would do him no good to be possessive when he had to give her up to the Leaders within a month.

Syra was dissatisfied with the whole affair. He had been pressured into this mission from the beginning and he was starting to regret giving in. One of the Leaders, Dachande, had questioned his ability to attract females and Syra had not responded well. He had almost smashed the old bastard's face in. Fortunately, he had restrained himself, but what he'd done instead had perhaps not been the wisest idea. He'd told Dachande to give him any task, no matter how dangerous, and he would do it. Dachande's response? He'd told Syra travel to Earth, which involved passing through some of the most Arbitrator-infested space in the galaxy, and collect an ooman, no gender specified.

Looking back on it, Syra's only excuse for such stupidity was that he had been overwhelmed with male hormones at the time. Well, that and the fact that he'd just consumed a couple gallons of c'nlip, making him an easy target for that kwei bastard's manipulation. Syra had no doubt that Dachande had purposely provoked him into agreeing to such an idiotic mission. It was gkei'moun for the most part, but that Arbitrator "camping spot" worried him. He had managed, through suicidal piloting and sheer luck, to tear through their ambush on the way to Earth, but it was unlikely he'd be able to repeat such a maneuver this time.

They might even be waiting for him, though he wasn't sure they'd even had time to realize that a ship had passed before he'd been gone. Maybe...

His mask suddenly notified him that he was receiving a call in his bedroom. He finished cleaning the room, leaving his trophies spotless, and hurried back to his bedroom. As he entered his room quietly, he noticed the little ooman had had the audacity to curl up on his bed. She was sound asleep, which irritated him. What right did she have to look so cute lying there? Paya, was he thinking of her as cute now?

On his way over to the viewing screen built into the wall, he kicked her in the stomach, hard. She woke up instantly, gasping and clutching her bruised abdomen. He ignored her, having already made his sentiments toward her quite clear, and used his mask to bring up whoever was trying to call him on the large screen. Then he removed it to make conversation easier, hanging it on his belt.

An old Yautja appeared on the screen, Dachande, Syra realized. He huffed. What did the pauker want now?

"What is it?" he snarled in his own language, making the ooman look at him fearfully. The old Yautja appeared surprised for a moment at Syra's harsh outburst, but his features quickly transformed into anger.

"How dare you address me so, _sain'ja_?" he spat, and the ooman's eyes flicked to the screen in surprise. She regarded them both warily, inching slowly into a dark corner where she would be less noticeable.

Syra scoffed, ignoring her antics for the moment. "I'll give you respect when you earn it, Dachande, but don't hold your breath. You may have the Youngbloods fooled, but I've been around long enough to realize that there is no Yautja deserving of respect besides Paya herself."

"Insolent kha'bj-te!" Dachande was furious, his mandibles flaring in rage. "I will teach you respect when you are finally yeyin enough to return. You are on a mission, or has your memory failed you?" he sneered. "Have you acquired an ooman?"

Syra nodded. "Did you ever doubt it?" he sneered. Dachande looked at him in disgust, clearly conveying his feelings in that regard.

"Where is it?" he asked sharply. "You haven't permanently damaged it, have you? We do need it alive, if you remember."

Syra growled. "_She_ is fine. A little bruised, but nothing that isn't fixable, should you be given the time and inclination to do so."

"Let me see her. This is far too important for me to take you at your... rather dubious word. I've heard about what's been going on between Yautja and female oomans on their ships. Disgusting."

"You're one to talk," Syra shot back. Reluctantly, he stalked over to the ooman and dragged her out of the corner. She struggled for a second, fear showing plainly in her eyes. Then she stopped fighting him suddenly, and her expression seemed almost resigned. Syra shook off the tendril of foreboding he felt curling through his gut and hauled her up in front of the camera. He held her up by the back of her neck.

"Is she satisfactory?"

Dachande looked her over and sniffed. "I suppose so. But wait," he exclaimed, "what is that on her cheek? Is that... your old clan marking?" He growled. "What are you up to, Syra'thwei?"

Syra looked at her cheek in surprise. He had almost forgotten about that. He still had no clue why he'd done that, back in the jungle. It certainly signified no feat of bravery, or that she had completed a chiva. Chiva marks were done with kainde amedha blood, and no other substitute would suffice for that sacred ritual. No, this mark signified that she was his property, or at least his clan's. But that clan had cast him out decades ago; he owed them no loyalty. And besides, he doubted they would want anything to do with a little female ooman.

It was still a problem, however, as he doubted that the Leaders would appreciate him marking up their ooman as his own property. C'jit! Why had he done that? Syra could barely comprehend his own actions anymore.

"None of your pauking business, Dachande. What matters whether she marked or not? You didn't specify what condition your ooman had to be in."

"You fool!" Dachande was furious. "Forgive me for not thinking you would be so stupid as to _mark it as your property!_"

Syra roared in response to this stinging rebuke, flaring his mandibles. He barely noticed the little ooman had struggled out of his grip and retreated, terrified, back into her corner. Dachande merely sneered at his display.

"Don't try that c'jit with me, sain'ja!" Dachande warned him scornfully. "I'm no Youngblood to be intimidated by your idiotic display." Syra growled, but was grudgingly silent. "Now listen carefully. If the ooman has a rather.. unique scar on her cheek, it makes no difference. What does matter is the fact that you gave it to her, obviously with some intentions behind your actions." Dachande shrugged. "I don't give a c'jit what those intentions are, but if you've developed some perverse attachment to this female, I suggest you either forget about it, or find a replacement, and make it fast." His eyes narrowed. "Do you understand, Syra'thwei?"

Syra nodded after a brief hesitation. Was the old bastard actually being... tolerating?

"You're being awfully understanding about this, Dachande," he voiced his thoughts suspiciously. "Are you sure you don't have a little ooman tucked away for your own?"

Dachande's expression of disgust made quite clear his feelings on that particular subject. "Don't even think about it. Some of us still remember what it feels like to mate with a real female." The old Yautja's eyes grew bright as he reminisced, and his mandibles curled up into a slow grin. "Trust me on this, Syra'thwei, no ooman in the universe will ever compare to a good, hard pauk with one of your own race. I have the scars to prove it."

Now it was Syra's turn to look disgusted. "If that's all you have to say, Dachande, I'll be going now. I have things to take care of here."

"So you are keeping her?"

"I didn't say that."

Dachande snorted at that rather defensive reply. "Whatever you say. But if you do keep her, don't get _too_ attached. She's still just an ooman, after all."

"I'd have to be blind not to be reminded of that every time I look at her," Syra replied dryly.

Dachande shrugged. "It's your mistake to make, sain'ja." The screen went black, as Dachande cut off the communication.

Syra huffed in bemusement. That had to be the weirdest conversation he'd ever had. But at least now he knew why that particular Leader was such a cunning bastard. It sounded like he had been an Elder before he had become a Bad Blood – an impossibility, or so Syra had thought. But now... Nothing was definite anymore, it seemed. The ooman cowering in the corner was proof positive of that.

He noted in appreciation that her fear had not dimmed one bit, had in fact increased since he turned to her. For the first time since he'd brought her aboard his ship, he really looked at her, and realized that she wasn't actually _that_ unappealing, though she could certainly do with a bath.

The hair that made it so easy to drag her around was a deep chestnut color, and it hung in ratty strings down to her lower back. Her eyes peeked out from behind her knees. They were comically wide in fear, demonstrating a pretty, dark brown. Her skin was darker than his own, suggesting that she was what the oomans called hispanic. From what he remembered of oomans from that part of their world, her facial features also suggested the same thing. By their standards, she was quite pretty. Syra wasn't sure about that himself, but she was certainly intriguing.

His promise of punishment was far from his mind now, and he found himself far more interested in exploring her body, so different from the Yautja females he had seen. What was the point of punishing her anymore anyway, when he would have done the same in her circumstances? What happened had been more the fault of his own carelessness than anything else. And besides, he'd already punished her enough to forestall any repeats of that incident. He didn't want to push her past that breaking point, especially not if he was keeping her.

That issue was still under debate in Syra's mind, but he was definitely leaning towards returning to Earth for replacement. At any rate, whether he kept her or no, she still needed to be alive. In his rage earlier, he had abused her rather harshly and she probably needed medical treatment. He seemed to remember cracking her fragile wrist when she refused to drop the sivk'va-tai, and broken bones were a rather big deal for oomans.

Medical bay it was, then. He sniffed. And hopefully a bath afterwards.

* * *

><p>Amber was terrified when he started to approach her again. Her stomach and neck still hurt from the last two times he had come close to her in the last few minutes. He had given her a rude awakening with that kick in the stomach. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd cracked one of her ribs; that was no love tap. And then he'd grabbed her by the neck <em>again<em>, only to dangle her in front of that screen as he spoke in that strange language that was half growling, half clicking. Showing her off, perhaps?

The alien on the screen hadn't looked too pleased, but with that face, was it even possible? But all that had been nothing compared to her captor's deafening roar. That was when she'd decided that her "no resistance" plan of before maybe wasn't the best idea, and scrambled away.

But what did he want now? The most likely explanation was that he had finally come to fulfill his threat and punish her. She squeezed her eyes shut, curled into an even tighter ball in the corner and waited for the first blow to come.

Amber flinched when she felt his hand on her arm, but he only pulled her feet. She was amazed when he actually put his other arm beneath her knees and lifted her in a bridal carry. When he started walking, she realized how far she now was from the floor and wrapped her uninjured arm around his neck in reflex. He paused and stiffened, gray eyes flicking to her face. Then he shifted his hold and kept walking.

This new position put her quite close to his face, and she took the opportunity to study it in detail. Her hand was touching his hair, and she was surprised to find it was actually hot and pulsing, much more alive than her own hair. His mouth was quite amazing, the way his four mandibles folded tightly over his sharp teeth. The mandibles also seemed to play a major part in his language; the tusks were always clicking together in some kind of accent or punctuation. Amber couldn't see any nose or ears, but she figured they must be somewhere. His hair probably hid his ears, and maybe he smelled with his mouth.

Still, as amazing as the rest of his face was, his eyes were by far his best feature. Shining gray with golden flecks scattered around the irises, they seemed almost luminous in the dim lighting of the ship.

A door slid open in front of them and he stepped inside. Amber looked around the room. The closest thing she could compare it to was an infirmary. Then again, it could be a torture room. Either one was equally possible.

She shivered as he laid her down on a cold metal table. She didn't think it was a torture room, as he was being quite gentle. Well, gentle for him. He went to a cabinet on the wall and drew out a few things. None of them looked pain inducing, thank god. He set them down on the table next to her, but didn't use them. Instead, he took her injured arm, not ungently, and stuck it into a machine next to the table. He strapped her arm down inside it, before he strapped her other arm and legs to the table. By some miracle, he managed to get them tight enough to secure her, quite a feat considering this equipment was built for someone his size.

She didn't consider it a miracle, however, and started to fight the restraints. He quelled her with one evil glare. She was again surprised when he stroked her hair, almost as if he was trying to be comforting. Then he pressed a button on the machine and her only thought was pain, burning pain, all centering around her wrist. Amber gave a choked scream. As she writhed around on the table, trying to escape the all-consuming pain coming from her arm, she thought she saw a laser coming out of the machine, and she realized why it hurt so bad. It was fusing the bone back together.

After an indefinite period of time (she wasn't exactly counting the seconds), it finally stopped. The whole time, he hadn't stopped watching her, devouring her face with his piercing gaze, missing nothing in his scrutiny, or so it appeared. Fine tremors racked her body as the last wave of pain dissolved away. His hand, previously offering some meager comfort on her hair, now traveled to her mouth. One claw slowly traced the line of her lips; she didn't move a muscle.

Suddenly, he caught himself and snapped his hand back. Her restraints were off in no time, but she didn't move from the table. He wasn't done. He took a jar of ointment and dipped one claw in it. Gently, he rubbed it onto the bruises around her neck, and more generously on her stomach and around her wrist. Everywhere that had a cut or bruise, he slathered on some of the ointment.

He turned to put it away, and she sat up and looked at her wrist, only to find the bruises all but gone. She gasped and his head snapped around. She thought he smirked.

"How-"

"You oomans are pathetically behind us in medicine and technology and, well, everything." She flinched at the truth behind that statement. He was right, she thought bitterly, humans really were inferior to them in every way.

She looked up to find herself face to chest with her captor. Suddenly, she had the striking realization that he was smoking hot, when he wasn't raping or choking her, at least. He actually had an eight pack, something no human would ever achieve. The fishnet hid nothing, and the various skulls suddenly engendered a totally different feeling from fear.

She suddenly noticed a certain part of him taking interest in the situation, and became acutely embarrassed. That feeling didn't last for long, however. She looked him in the eye, noticing that his irises were now a thin ring around his blown pupils. Amber inhaled a shaky breath and noticed an intoxicating smell in the air, almost a musk; it was sweet and wood smelling, and totally _him_.

Amber moaned softly, her own eyes black with arousal. Without thinking, she placed her hands on his chest and leaned her upturned face into his. His skin beneath the fishnet was hard and scaly, abrading her fingers. Sitting on the high table put her just high enough to touch her mouth to his, and she did just that, giving him one long lick along his lower mandible.

He pulled her back by her hair and she stiffened, expecting swift retribution for so bold an act. She wasn't even sure why she'd done it. That musk he was exuding gave her this heady feeling, like she could do anything.

But he didn't hit her. Instead, his hand flattened on the back of her neck and he wrapped his free arm around her waist, jerking her into his chest. His scales rubbed against her naked breasts and she drew a shaky breath as he looked into her eyes, seeming to see into her very soul. Then, hesitantly, he opened his mandibles and drew her face in between them. He opened his inner mouth and his tongue flicked out. She opened her mouth to meet his and his tongue thrust inside.

They were kissing! No, _he_ was kissing _her_, something she'd thought an impossibility just ten minutes ago. His arm on her head switched to grip her ass as he lifted her off the table, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His mandibles still held her mouth to his; the sharp tusks dug into her cheeks, but she didn't mind. She was too busy tugging his hair with one hand and groping his chest with the other. He had started purring almost immediately and the vibrations against her breasts made her shiver deliciously.

Amber could feel herself become wet, and knew that he could tell as well because his chest expanded and he stiffened. He growled and suddenly she was slammed against the wall. She winced and grunted as the air left her lungs in a rush. His hips ground punishingly into hers, undoubtedly leaving more bruises. He undid his loincloth and then he was pushing inside her.

She gasped at the painful fullness; even though she had been ready, it still wasn't enough. He was just too big. Amber cried out in pain and tried frantically to push him away, but she was totally helpless, her feet dangling almost two feet off the floor. She thought he would just ignore her protests like he'd done in the past, and she wondered bitterly why she had ever thought any differently, even for a moment. Then she realized that he hadn't moved inside her. He was purring harder than ever, but his hands on her gentled slightly, even as his kisses became softer, more lingering. He actually cared! For Amber, that was a momentous realization. Now she was only left to wonder why... But not right now.

Her body was slowly becoming accustomed to the intrusion, and pain was turning into toe-curling pleasure. He seemed to recognize this change, for his hand on her waist joined the one on her ass and he slowly lifted her up, up off his cock, until she nearly moaned at the loss, then slammed her down. She squeaked, but moaned in pleasure when he did it again. His upper mandibles curled up slightly, and she knew he was quite smug about her reaction. He could keep his smugness, she thought, as long as he didn't stop what he was doing. Dear god, he couldn't stop!

He changed his pace and his strokes became rough and uneven as he slammed her over and over into the wall. But she didn't mind, because she was so, oh so close to coming herself. Then one thrust came, angled just right, and she saw stars. Amber screamed in release, her inner walls clamping down on his cock, milking it. But even in her near-incoherent state, she couldn't miss his deafening roar as he followed her into ecstasy, and his white-hot seed jetting into her.

When the last aftershocks faded away, her eyes slid closed and she curled into his chest, the heat he radiated nearly burning her. All she comprehended was an overpowering feeling of comfort and safety, and that his skin was not quite so hard and scaly as she had thought.

* * *

><p>And there it is, folks. That's the first time I've written anything like that, so I really hope you liked it. Really, really hope. As in, please review and tell me what you think. ;)<p>

By the way, some of you might complain about how either Syra or Amber shouldn't be able to breathe in the atmosphere on the ship, but I thought about it, and realized that shouldn't be a problem. See, nitrogen (what the Yautja breathe) isn't actually toxic in any way to humans. We breathe 70% nitrogen, so I don't see why Syra couldn't alter the air cocktail in his ship so it works for both of them.

Also, Dachande may or may not be based off the original Dachande from Steve Perry's AvP books. I haven't decided yet.

Anyway, like I said, Merry Christmas! Don't forget to check out my Christmas special!

**Translations** (in order of appearance)

sain'ja - warrior  
>kha'bj-te - maniacreckless  
>kehrite - training halldojo  
>kainde amedha - hard meat; refers to xenomorphs<br>kwei - sly  
>c'nlip - intoxicating beverage<br>gkei'moun - easy/simple  
>pauk(er) - fuck(er)<br>sivk'va-tai - plasma caster/shoulder cannon


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise._**

Happy new year, everybody! We're all gonna die in December, so let's live it up while we still can! :P

Enjoy my new year's update! I just couldn't resist. ;) I know it's a little shorter than usual, but I have to sleep sometime, people. Maybe I can get another update out before school starts back up on the 9th. Here's hoping. :)

Thanks to **kurounue13**, **mizukikage**, **Billie O'Dial**, **xVentressx**, **amber-was-here130**, **amber**, **ida-criss-wild**, **Scar'sbff**, **xXxMudvayneGirlxXx**, **hippyflowerp**, **Lady Augustin**, **Luv4Uncas** and **Katherine** for your wonderful and awesome Christmas reviews, no matter how late they were.

**amber****:** Sorry, I just meant it's kind of strange considering how victimized Amber is in here, with you sharing her name. Also it's kind of a weird coincidence.

So, in case you guys hadn't noticed, there are, in fact, two people named Amber reviewing this story. Yes, this is a rather interesting coincidence. Not that uncommon, I suppose, but that kind of stuff almost never happens to me, as I have a rather old-fashioned name. You guys might think I'm being silly making a big deal out of this, I just think it's kind of funny, that's all. Anyway, enough of my blathering. Let's hear some of Syra's blathering instead. It's so much more interesting. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Syra struggled to control his breathing, which was still a bit labored, while he pondered the unbelievable phenomenon in his arms. She was actually asleep! After all he'd done to her, enough to make her hate and fear him for the rest of her stunted lifespan, she had the gall to feel safe in his arms. And right after he'd pauked her too, as if his pride wasn't sore enough. He was still dazed over that one. There he was, ready to throw her into a bath and then into his bed, when she turned around looking like the most gorgeous thing in the universe.

He'd approached her, intending to prove to himself that he hadn't developed any strong feelings for her by giving her a quick pauk. He couldn't think why she'd suddenly started cooperating, even encouraging him. Perhaps, his dai-shui? But why would she respond like that? The musk was more of an extra encouragement, only kicking in if the female was already attracted the male. It wouldn't create an attraction out of nothing, but it would nurse the flame, so to speak, and help it along more quickly. Syra's eyes glinted in amusement.

Was she really so desperate? He had heard of the ooman's strange concept of love, perhaps she thought she was in love with him. He laughed softly. Silly oomans. They had to make every little thing have a deeper meaning. Sometimes, a pauk was just a pauk... Wasn't it? He shook his head. This was ridiculous. She was nothing special. So he'd decided to keep her around longer than anticipated, so he wanted to find a replacement for the Leaders. It didn't mean anything.

She was just a stupid, sentimental ooman, and he was merely taking advantage of her feelings for him. And Paya, what an advantage it was. The other times he'd pauked her didn't even compare to what he'd just experienced. When she'd come, her already tight inner walls squeezing his cock... It had been worth accommodating her, slowing down, just to feel-

He cut himself short. Paya, he was becoming nearly as sentimental as her. Well, time to bathe her, he supposed. Syra looked irritatedly at the slumbering, little baggage in his arms and huffed. It was so much work to keep her clean and healthy, especially now that he couldn't trust her alone. Even leaving her in his quarters had been too risky, even if she was chained. It would be best if she were with him at all times. He grinned cruelly. She'd better get used to getting pauked a lot, as he was finding it increasingly hard to think about anything else around her.

Syra strode back to his bedroom, picking up his loincloth as an afterthought, and through an inner door that led to a lavish bathing pool. He tossed the undergarment aside, discarding his other clothing just as carelessly, a difficult task with the ooman still in his arms. His mask, however, he put to his face for a moment, changing the water temperature to accommodate her, before he set it out of the way. Then he looked at the sleeping ooman curled up against his chest like a suckling to its mother and descended the metal steps into the deep pool.

She woke slowly, seeming thoroughly bewildered for a moment. Then she noticed she was still clinging to him and looked suddenly horrified, pulling away frantically. He let her go, backing away to sit on the bench cut into the walls with a sigh. He looked at her unblinkingly as she quickly surveyed her surroundings. She noticed his stare and blushed, crossing her arms over her chest. The water that came only to his stomach, standing, came almost to her neck. Though it was almost steaming, she shivered, her skin pebbling into hard bumps. He imagined her nipples doing the same thing and almost choked, barely keeping his lust in check.

Squirming under his regard, she finally blurted out, "Stop staring at me!"

He trilled in amusement. "Why?"

She jumped at his inquiry. "B-because it's rude," she mumbled.

Syra became quite irritated at her lame reasoning. "Name an instance when I have ever been _polite _to you." He spit the word out as if it disgusted him, which it did.

She flinched and looked down. "I'm sorry," she whispered. He huffed and leaned back, placated for now. She looked at him again, opened her mouth and drew breath to speak, but closed it saying anything, clearly afraid to question him.

He rolled his eyes. She was like a skittish rabbit around him, a habit that was becoming more and more annoying, though he had enjoyed it at first. "Spit it out!"

She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, then asked quietly, "Where are we?"

"In a bath."

"Why?"

He glanced over her, giving a her doubtful look, and she blushed hotly.

"Well, where's the soap then?" she said defensively.

"It's not necessary. There are micro-organisms in the water that consume dirt and various other things on your skin. They're harmless," he added, seeing her expression.

"How do you know they're harmless to me?" she demanded. "I don't want something eating my skin off!" She made a break for the steps out of the pool, but he leaped up with a splash and grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back into the water.

"You're fine," he growled, "but it takes about a half hour for them to finish, so you can't leave yet." He held her until she stilled, then pulled her gently to the bench and sat down. He clicked his mandibles and pulled her into his lap. She stiffened at first, but after a few minutes she relaxed and curled into his chest again.

Her steady breathing calmed him and he stroked her hair softly. He was just contemplating how he would go about getting another ooman once he reached earth, when she spoke.

"What's your name?" she asked, startling him. She looked up at him curiously.

He hesitated for a moment, then said finally, "Syra'thwei."

"Seerah thwey," she tried the name out hesitantly.

He laughed. "No, _Syra'thwei,_" he corrected, accentuating the click of his mandibles between the syllables.

"Well, I don't have mandibles! I can't make _clicks_ like that."

He snorted. "No you don't. And what a pathetic loss that is."

"Hey!"

He ignored her indignant outburst. "Just call me Syra."

"Syra... Sounds a bit like a girl's name," she blurted out without thinking, then looked horrified when she realized what she'd just said.

She tried to flounder out of his lap, but his grip was like iron around her waist. One hand came up to wrap around her throat. She cringed when she caught his expression.

"Are you calling me a female?" he asked incredulously.

"N-no!" she stuttered. She was quite perplexed when he suddenly grinned.

"I didn't realize you thought that highly of me, ooman," he said, returning her to his lap and laughing when at her puzzlement. "Yautja females are considered superior to males. They're bigger, stronger, smarter, and a whole lot meaner, plus they contain the means to continue our race. In all, a lot more important."

She looked shocked. "My god! Aliens are actually ruled by females!"

"No we're not, thank Paya. The females have no interest in ruling. They have their hands full raising their sucklings. And on their brief reprieves from motherhood, they go on hunts. So long as they can still beat any male into submission and mate on occasion, clan politics don't really affect them."

Despite the fact that he was talking about females of his own race, not hers, she still felt slightly insulted.

"Not all females are like that, you know."

He looked at her speculatively. "No, you oomans are quite the opposite. The females actually want power, but you're not strong enough to take it."

"We're still smarter than men," she said glibly.

He grunted. "Possibly. But knowing ooman men, that's hardly an accomplishment."

"If all you _Yautja_ think we're so stupid, then why bother hunting us? How is it an 'accomplishment' to kill a bunch of defenseless idiots?"

He looked at her sharply. "Not all of think it is. The majority of the Yautja have an outdated system of laws based on the honor of the hunt. One of those laws forbids the killing of anything pregnant, old, defenseless, etc."

"But you disagree?" she said slowly, realizing what sensitive ground she was on.

He smiled harshly. "Yes. There are some of us who think the Elders who make those laws are getting too 'elder' and that they and their laws should be replaced by something newer. But we are merely a rebel sect, so to speak, and anyone who, through their actions, proves an affinity with us is exiled. Bad Bloods, they call us, those 'honored warriors' who think themselves so much better than us when, in truth, they enjoy the kill as much as anyone, defenseless or no." Syra wondered at the passion in his voice as he explained this to her. What did he care what she thought of him?

"So you're like an outlaw?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I suppose," he agreed reluctantly.

She shook her head in wonderment. "So that's how you became a Bad Blood, by killing an old lady?" Despite the serious subject, she found it hard to keep from laughing at that ridiculous thought.

"No, it isn't," he said, annoyed that she was making light of this. "I killed three Elders, my instructor, and my own father."

Her bobbed like a fish. "I-I... You... But... Your own father?"

"I barely knew him. The females raise the sucklings by themselves. The only part the males have in that particular duty is to impregnate the females when they're fertile."

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "That's sad."

"Oomans." He laughed. "I just told you that I murdered five of my own kind, including my father, and you feel sorry for me because he didn't care about me. Amazing."

"No, I didn't-" He laughed harder. "It's still wrong, but-Oh, forget it! If you're just going to make fun of me, I'm not staying here." She tried to push off his lap again, but found herself again held fast.

"Did I say you could leave, ooman?" he growled softly, but she was too angry to be scared.

"My name isn't ooman, _Yautja!_"

"Oh? Then what is it?" He pulled her hair painfully. "Hmm?"

"It's Amber," she gritted out.

"Amber..." He released her hair. "You're named after fossilized tree resin?" he said disgustedly.

"What? There's nothing wrong with my name! What does your name mean?"

"Head-blood."

"And you're criticizing me? With a name like that?"

"It means I'm smart," he snarled.

"Really? You could've fooled me," she scoffed. "All I ever see you using is brute force."

"And isn't it smart to make use of your other assets?" he countered. "You want brute force?" He dove under the water, before she could answer, forcing her down beneath him. He sat on her at the bottom, holding her there with ease despite her desperate struggles.

He forced open her mouth with his hand, fisted his cock, and pushed it inside, so deep she choked. She panicked, unable to buck him off and with her hands trapped beneath his knees. He stayed there, unmoving, for what seemed an eternity, until she felt her lungs would burst and her movements grew slow and leaden. She was just about to give up, resigned that he would drown her, when he pulled out and dragged her up to the surface.

She gasped, immensely grateful for every painful breath of air. She coughed up water, then gave a hoarse scream as he dragged her out of the water by her hair.

"Just making sure your head got clean, too," he said sarcastically.

Syra grabbed a huge towel and roughly wiped her dry, then himself. Amber knelt on the floor, still coughing up water as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She couldn't believe he'd done that, and over such a small thing. She'd really only been poking fun, irritated that he'd made fun of her name, which she happened to like. After what they'd shared earlier, she wouldn't have thought... Clearly, she had been wrong to assume that he would change just because he'd been nice to her for two minutes. But he had proved his point. She certainly wouldn't be taking the liberty of teasing him anytime soon. Not when his mercurial moods could turn violent at a moment's notice.

"Get up," he said harshly, having gathered his clothing and dressed. His mask was in place on his belt.

"No."

Silence. "What?"

"I said, no. You can't treat me like this."

"Is that so?"

"You almost killed me back there," she said quietly. "Was that all just to prove a point?"

He said nothing.

"I disobey you and you punish me. I do what you say and you try to drown me while shoving your cock down my throat. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You think to make me feel guilty? I could have killed you with the others back on Earth."

"Well, why don't you finish the job now?" she screamed at him. "Was saving me really some great mercy, or am I worse off than those poor bastards you slaughtered in the jungle?"

He snorted. "You're alive, they're not. Who's better off is irrelevant, because you're certainly not going to be joining them anytime soon.

"Why not? Am I just too good a lay?" Her voice was bitter. "Is that it, huh?"

"What other reason would there be?" he spat angrily.

She seemed to deflate. "That's really all I am to you, a toy? That's the only reason you kidnapped me, so you could have a convenient sex slave who doubles as a punching bag?" She exhaled. "Wow... I don't know why I'm surprised, why I expected more. What am I to you, anyway, except a stupid, weak human?"

Amber stood up slowly and walked into the bedroom. She picked up the abandoned collar off the floor and put it around her neck, snapping it shut with a click. She turned to face him, expressionless.

"Do what you want."

He looked as if he was about to say something, when his mask beeped. He growled, and put it on. The snarl he gave when he saw the problem could have made a lion turn tail and run. He spun around and ran out the door without another word. Amber almost followed him, but then remembered the collar around her neck; she had no way to get it off now. That dramatic gesture certainly hadn't gone as planned. Now she was stuck here, with no idea of what was going on and no clue as to what he would do when he returned. Unbelievable.

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><p>Yeah, Syra's being mean again, get over it. ;) Change doesn't happen overnight, people, and what am I, if not a melodramatic sap? But hey, at least they know each other's names now! He's not just "the enormous alien" and she's not just "the ooman." Having to think of ways for characters to refer to other characters without knowing their names is really hard, let me tell you. Anyway, I'm blathering again. I do that a lot at 4 am. When I'm not asleep... ;)<p>

Happy new year, my wonderful, amazing, marvelous, outstanding readers! Best of luck in the (zombie) apocalypse! :P


	7. Chapter 7

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise._**

Hey, guys! Five days later and I have a 4000 word monster of a chapter for you. Finally, things get interesting, and some new developments arise. Enjoy! :)

Thanks to **hippyflowerp** (my graciously accepted stalker), **xVentressx**, **anom**, **IluthraDanar**, **Lady Augustin** (whose comments are always the most awesome), **XxSilentEmpathxX**, **Angle1** (who I love for the double reviews), **Katherine** (who should think about signing her reviews so I can show her my full appreciation), **mizukikage** (whose randomness is always appreciated) and **Luv4Uncas** for all you guys's totally awesome and cool reviews. :)

**anom: **Meh... Likable heroines are not my specialty. Heroes, however... ;) I can make you like even the most evil bastard of a hero, as you can see. :P

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Syra raced through the dim hallways, his footsteps pounding, as he didn't bother to quiet them in his hurry. He was still annoyed at the ooman, Amber, for questioning him like that. And the little baggage had the nerve to make ultimatums! He would have to deal with her; the current situation was becoming intolerable and she refused to accept her place. But not now, not when his mask had just informed him of a perimeter alert. He had it set to inform him as soon as his ship detected another ship anywhere near. He didn't want any nasty surprises, like an Arbitrator, sneaking up on him.

At last, he reached the ship's controls and sunk down into the pilot's chair. He brought up an image on the large, viewing screen – the ship was foreign, certainly not a Yautja vessel. But it was fighter class, whatever it was, and that was no better. Being the most dominating race in the galaxy had its disadvantages; there were a lot of other races that hated your guts. And the Bad Blood clan had developed a reputation for being even worse than the other clans. They were hated equally by almost every civilized race. He, personally, was wanted for murder, manslaughter or genocide on over 50 planets. It made space travel difficult, to say the least.

He did have several major advantages over the other ship, however, if it came to a fight. His own vessel was far better equipped, built for long voyages and totally prepared for hostile encounters. Not only was it much larger than the average fighter class, it had more weapons, stronger shields, plus the latest in cloaking technology, "acquired" by yours truly. Arbitrators aside, it was gkei'moun to sneak into one of the massive research labs on Yautja Prime and swipe some of the abundance of technology they had stored there. Some of his weapons weren't even available yet for public use, a fact he was quite proud of.

But getting back to the topic on hand, Syra decided a fight was just what he needed. The other ship was blocking a full scan, so he didn't know what exactly was on it, but he figured there was a good chance it was hostile. A good hunt should provide an interesting diversion and might take his mind off the irritation in his bedroom. Stealth being of the essence now, he quickly engaged the full cloak, rendering his ship nearly invisible to almost any scan, even the most thorough. He set his ship on a course to come alongside the other, magnetizing the hull so he could board it easily. This wouldn't take long, so he had to hurry to prepare.

He realized with annoyance that he'd have to return to his bedroom to gather his awu'asa. The kehrite contained nearly all his weapons, but he kept his prized armor in his bedroom, close at hand. Syra growled. Unfortunately, if he wanted that fight, there was no time to deal with Amber just then; she would have to wait. He had to stop letting her get to him. There was no reason why she should be able to get under his thick skin like no one else ever could. Most of his own clan actually found it quite difficult to provoke him, not that they dared. That he could let a little ooman make him reluctant to enter his own bedroom...

With a snort of disgust, he headed for the kehrite to gather some weapons. Not being sure of what he would encounter on board the other ship, he took a few more than usual. The first one he grabbed, most important by far, was his treasured ki'cti-pa. He had crafted it himself for his chiva, so long ago, yet it was still in pristine condition, being made of the finest d'lex, a material his old clan had specialized in making. Though he was fairly skilled in most Yautja weapons, his skill was unmatched with the ki'cti-pa; with it at his side, he was practically unbeatable.

With the retracted spear safely stowed away on his back, he quickly grabbed his dah'kte and chakt-ra. Fully armed, except for the sivk'va-tai, which he disliked, he looked quite imposing, hopefully enough to keep the ooman shut up long enough for him to grab his awu'asa and leave. Syra huffed. He probably wasn't that lucky.

Striding quickly through the silently opening door, he found her pacing agitatedly, as much as her self-placed collar would allow. She glanced up, but amazingly, she was, in fact, surprised enough by his changed appearance to keep her mouth shut for once. Thank Paya, he inwardly rejoiced. She must have thought he was ready to kill or torture her with his newly outfitted gear, because she raised her hands, palms out, to ward him off and backed away with a look of horrified dismay.

"Whoah, w-what are you doing?" She stumbled over her words in her panic. Apparently, she had not expected such a drastic reaction to her silly ultimatum. He sneered. As if he would bother to get out his ki'cti-pa just to punish her for locking herself up, of all things.

He shot her a quelling look, but she didn't catch it through his mask. "Be quiet," he said harshly. "Other things demand my attention for now, but I'll deal with you when I get back," he assured her as he efficiently secured his armor, his movements automatic after so long.

She looked at him warily. "Where are you going? Are you going down to a planet?"

"We're nowhere near any inhabitable planet," he answered distractedly.

"Then what-"

"No more questions!" Amber jumped when he barked at her. "I won't be back for a while, possibly not for several hours." That was being generous, he thought. Shouldn't take too long to clean out the crew, even for a fighter class. Then he'd gather whatever trophies caught his fancy and hop back here. The clean up was no problem, a few shots from the massive plasma cannons his ship was equipped with and the other ship was toast, decapitated bodies and all.

"Make yourself at home," he sneered at Amber over his shoulder on his way out the door. "And don't even think about trying anything stupid. If I find one of those,"–He motioned toward his trophies lining the walls–"just a little askew, I will break every bone in your body. Understand?" His tone made it clear to her that he was dead serious. She nodded stiffly, her jaw aching from clenching it so hard.

Syra nodded in approval and strode out of the room. Just to be sure, he securely locked the door; there was no way she was getting out of that room now. He got to the exit door just in time, the ship shook slightly as it attached itself to the other's hull. The door slid open, revealing the door of the other ship. It wasn't locked, he just pressed the control button and it slid open to reveal the pressurized airlock. Using his mask, he ordered his ship to detach from the hull, but stay close. He didn't want anything on this ship to have access to his own.

That done, he engaged his own cloak and stepped through the next door. His mask was switched to infrared, but he found no heat signals immediately. There weren't even any lights on. Everywhere was pitch black and cold. If this was just a derelict, that would be quite a disappointment. But wait! There was a faint heat signal coming from the right. Syra walked silently down the quiet hallways. Suddenly, his foot stuck to something on the floor, while at the same time, his fingers stuck to the wall. He pulled them away and stepped back cautiously. He rubbed his fingers together, analyzing the material with his mask. It almost felt like...

His eyes widened as he realized. The gooey substance along the walls and floor was te-dqi and this was a kainde amedha nest! How-

His shocked thoughts were interrupted as something threw him hard onto the floor, catching him by surprise. He brought his dah'kte up just in time to impale the drone that leaped on him. Unfortunately, in its dying throes, it smacked him in the head hard enough to make his mask malfunction for a second and make him see stars. It also left four long scratches across the front of the mask. Hopefully, they would serve as a reminder of his stupidity, which had almost gotten him killed.

Syra tossed the drone off his dah'kte before it dripped its acid blood all over him, rising to a crouch. His hair swung around him as he looked around quickly to make sure there were no more waiting to attack him. The thing's death scream had undoubtedly alerted all of them of his presence; he cursed himself for his stupidity. He decided the best option was probably retreat. Who knew how many more drones there could be? There had to be a queen, he knew that. Only she could produce the te-dqi in such a quantity. Still, he ought to check out that heat signal.

He rose, brushed himself off, and re-engaged his cloak, which thankfully was undamaged. Since they already knew he was here, speed was more important than stealth, since they could undoubtedly smell the blood from their lost brother on his dah'kte. He raced silently through the hallways toward the faint heat signal, getting stronger as he got closer. Finally, he came to a door which appeared to be locked, as there were at least five drones all prowling around it, scratching on it and trying to pry it open. They were unsuccessful so far, but it was only a matter of time; they were very persistent little bastards.

He resisted the urge to roar a challenge at them, knowing it would only further alert them to his location. He pulled out his ki'cti-pa, extending it with a faint metallic "shink." He twirled it, going automatically into a fighting stance. Syra gave a quick grin, then leaped on the group gathered in front of the door. There was no warning, just a huge spear that suddenly appeared inside one of the drone's heads, killing it instantly. In a flash, he'd pulled it out and stuck another one through the chest. He held its body up with one hand while the other shot out to catch a third drone with his dah'kte.

He shook both bodies off, tossing the one still impaled on his ki'cti-pa onto the other two, who quickly backed off, hissing in rage. One of them jumped onto the ceiling while the other tried to get away, probably to collect some of its nestmates to help. In a flash, he pulled out his chakt-ra and threw it at the escaping one. The sharp disc instantly decapitated the drone, bouncing off the walls and returning to him.

But in the time it took for Syra to catch the chakt-ra, the one on the ceiling had attacked, its long tail nearly taking off his arm. With a screech, it too tried to jump on him, but he dodged, neatly severing its tail on the ground with his ki'cti-pa. It let out a pained scream, but was quickly silenced when he dug his claws into its neck and ripped its head off. Ignoring the painful acid burns, he looked around, checking the area, and sheathed his spear and retracted his dah'kte.

Too late, he heard the scratch of claws in the darkness, and felt something heavy land on his back. Syra felt a brief moment of fear, then his training kicked in and he threw himself on his back, crushing the beast beneath him. He did a back somersault, stabbing it in the chest with his dah'kte as the inner mouth grazed his neck. He caught the long tongue, ripping it off in rage.

Finally, he looked around him, seeing only dead. Breathing hard, he moved to the door, quickly hacking into the lock with his mask, which was still giving him static every now and then. That first drone must have damaged it more than he'd thought. He'd have to check it out when he got back. Finally, he got the door open, stepping in cautiously. There was shallow breathing coming from the corner and his head swung around to look.

Syra was rather surprised to find the heat signature was still rather faint, so he switched the mask to its color night vision setting. He gaped in amazement. It was a small child, huddled in the corner. Not a pyode amedha, obviously. They didn't have spaceships nearly this advanced, though once they did, he wouldn't be surprised if they had some kainde amedha infestations, what with their carelessness. His mask did a full scan of the child as he slowly approached it. It was female and appeared to be carrying a very sharp knife.

She had dark green, glistening scales, and no ears, to speak of. Besides that, she looked quite similar to the oomans in many ways. As he approached, she opened her mouth to hiss at him with a mouth bursting with tiny, but very sharp teeth. Her cheeks were hollow, giving her small face a skeletal look, and her eyes were tiny silver slits, glinting in the dark. Her hair was pitch black, but glittered in the dark like diamonds. Her modesty was protected by a strange material; it was hard, but it conformed easily to her movements.

Suddenly, he knew what she was. Of all the races in the galaxy, it was hers that hated him the most. The Sijila planets had orders to shoot on site anything that even looked like it might be Yautja in origin. How ironic that he should be the one to rescue one of their precious daughters. Or not. He didn't have to save her, after all. With the way she was waving that knife in front of her, it was apparent she'd already started on battle training; it would be easier just to leave her here, rather than fighting both her and the drones to get her off this ship. The Sijila were trained to be hostile to everyone and everything, but they were sure to be extra hostile to him, even a little girl that was barely trained.

He huffed in annoyance. But of course he couldn't just leave her here. His old clan might think he had no care for any life but his own, even that of a child, but he had his kinder moments sometimes. This was apparently one of them. But he had to be quick, time was of the essence here. He'd better get his ship reattached to the hull so he could make a quick exit. He called up the ship's controls on his mask, ignoring the hissing little snake in the corner for now. He growled in annoyance when he found they weren't working right. That drone had damaged his ability to direct the ship; he could only control its inner functions.

He thought for a moment. Maybe... He grunted in disgust. Nothing for it, he supposed, but she'd better not get any ideas...

He turned on the ship's intercom, connecting to the one in his bedroom.

"Amber! Press the glowing blue button on the wall and tell me if you can hear me."

There was a moment of silence, and he huffed in annoyance, almost giving up.

Then, "Syra? What's going on?"

"Be quiet, and do exactly as I say. Pull that collar apart as hard as you can."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"Just do it!" he gritted out. A moment later, he heard a clang and thanked Paya for his luck. She hadn't locked the thing completely, though he hadn't considered that when he'd left.

"What? How-" she exclaimed.

"You didn't lock it all the way, but never mind that!" he growled. "I'm unlocking the door, now go out and turn right."

"But-"

"Do it _now!_ And take the com with you. Just snap it off the wall."

There was a clang as she ripped it off the wall, then the just barely discernible swish of the doors.

"Okay, what now?"

"Just keep going until the hall ends in a doorway. I'll unlock that door too. And make it quick," he snapped.

She muttered something about a "grumpy bastard," but he let it slide, time being of the essence. The little snake in the corner was getting restless in his presence. He heard the swish of doors again, then her gasp.

"Wow... I'm guessing these are the ship's controls..."

"Yes, they are," he growled. She was taking too long! He didn't want to have to fight off the whole nest while he waited for her to stop gaping in wonder. "Go to the pilot's chair, it's the biggest one."

"How am I supposed to get in a chair that big-"

He didn't hear the rest of her sentence. All he heard was the scratching of claws on the metal floors. Well, as long as they knew he was here...

He roared, his arms coming up instinctively into a hostile pose. The drones weren't even phased, merely slowing their approach to evaluate the situation. He swung his ki'cti-pa from his back, letting the sharp ends shoot out. The ooman was still talking, though her voice had become significantly more fearful.

"Syra, what's going on? Where are you?"

"Amber." His voice was low and quiet, and unbelievably menacing. She shut up instantly. "Sit in the chair and tap the biggest screen you see."

Around him, the drones attempted to encircle him, hissing occasionally. He counted at least ten. His hair swung wildly as he tried to keep an eye on all of them at the same time, plus make sure the Sijila girl was unharmed. Luckily, the kainde amedha were ignoring her for now, deciding instead to concentrate their force on eliminating him. Syra snorted. How flattering.

"Okay," came Amber's voice, "I touched the screen. Now there's some red... letters...? And a bunch of pictures, I guess..."

The first one jumped, immediately followed by two more. He stuck one through the neck with the spear, impaling another on the other end and blocking the third with the staff part of it. He shook the two dead off it and stabbed the third through the chest. Then he shook off the blood.

"You see the red lines connecting some of the symbols?"

"Yeah!"

"Drag your finger-" He caught the sharp tail that lanced toward him and used it to slam its owner into the wall. "-from the last connected-" Two more came at him. He tossed his ki'cti-pa into the air, catching them through the necks with his dah'kte and threw them back at the now cowering mob, just in time to catch his spear as it fell. "-symbol to the one in the..." He thought for a moment while he jumped onto another drone, pinning it through the chest into the floor with his ki'cti-pa. "...fifth column, second row."

"Um, okay..."

He used the spear as a vaulting pole, jumping up and running sideways over the last four who tried to surround him again. Having knocked them back, he quickly dispatched three of them with his dah'kte. One left. The Sijila was hissing fearfully in the corner, clutching her knife desperately. Apparently, her training hadn't yet prepared her for this.

"Okay, I did it! I think..."

He was paying no attention to the ooman as he caught the last drone, holding it high over his head before he slammed it down on the ki'cti-pa still stuck into the floor.

"Syra?"

He stood there panting for a moment, enjoying the delicious feeling of victory. "Good. Go back to my quarters and wait for me. I'll be back momentarily." He cut the communication off before she could say more. He didn't really care whether or not she obeyed him; it wasn't like he couldn't deal with her when he got back. And now that she'd seen the controls, she should know that she'd have no hope of deciphering them enough to get herself home without him.

Syra heaved himself up off the floor, aware that more drones would be coming soon. He picked out the biggest and most undamaged drone of the bunch and hauled it out of the pile. He would take this one back and make a trophy or two out of it. Finally, he turned his attention back the snake. He huffed. All he saw the girl as right now was an extra irritation that he had to cart back to his ship. She couldn't be more than a few years old, though they matured pretty fast. She might look small, but she was probably old enough to have a few children of her own, one reason why the Sijila were so dangerous. A bottleneck meant nothing to them; they'd be back up to strength within fifty years.

Slowly, he approached the girl, crouching before her. She hissed and brandished her knife, though he could smell the pungent fear coming off her. Maybe her fear would make her easier to handle.

"What's your name, little girl?" he asked in Sijilan, a language made up primarily of hissing. No surprise there. Thanks to his body's extremely evolved speech system, he could imitate it perfectly.

"Zhali," she spat. "Who are you?"

"Syra is my name, but that's not important. Now listen up, Zhali," he said harshly. She gazed at him warily. "Your life depends on how well you obey me. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to die. Those things-" He motioned toward the dead drones behind him. "-will plant an egg in your chest through your mouth and a couple hours later, a little baby will dig its bloody way out of your chest, leaving your dead body behind as an empty shell. Understand?" She flinched and nodded. "Good, now hold on to me."

He opened his arms and, after a brief hesitation, she leaped into them, wrapping her arms around his neck in a near-stranglehold. Clearly, he had terrified her sufficiently, he thought wryly.

"Don't let go, no matter what," he ordered sharply. Her head nodded from where it was buried in his neck. "This should be interesting," he muttered in his own language.

He grabbed his chosen trophy kill and tossed it over his shoulder, before he strode out the door, making his way carefully down the hallways toward the exit door where his ship was waiting. He must have taken a wrong turn, because somehow he found himself in a room which, upon further examination, contained at least fifty eggs. As if sensing his arrival, they began to open, revealing the agile, octopus-like creatures which planted their own eggs inside a chosen host. He looked up and saw, way in the back of this surprisingly spacious room, the queen, undoubtedly the one responsible for the slaughter of this ship's entire crew. She scented him and screeched in rage and fury.

Throwing caution to the wind, he turned tail and ran. He found the turn he'd taken wrong, corrected it, and sprinted for the exit. He heard no pounding footsteps, so the queen had obviously not deigned to chase after him herself, but the scratching behind him suggested that she had sent her drones after him in force. Zhali shook in fear.

Finally, he reached the airlock, slamming it shut behind him. A drone screeched as its claws were severed between the heavy doors. Breathing heavily, he gave a quick look around the small airlock to make sure there were no face-huggers lying in wait that could potentially cross over to his ship. Seeing nothing, he opened the door of both ships, crossing gratefully into his. The door slid shut and locked behind him. He sighed and leaned against the door, tossing the dead drone to the floor. Thank Paya for blessed peace. He looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"Oh, my god! What the fuck is that?"

Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.

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><p>Well, hopefully you enjoyed that action-packed update. I spent a lot of time envisioning those fight scenes, so I'm hoping they were up to par. The ship's controls are taken mostly from the comic,<em> Alien vs. Predator: War<em>, where Machiko demonstrates them by crashing the Predator ship and killing them all. The Sijila are my own creation, taken from nothing except my own imagination.

Comment, complaints? We take 'em all! You know what to do! :P

**Translations** (in order of appearance)

gkei'moun - easy/simple  
>awu'asa - armor<br>kehrite - training hall/dojo  
>ki'cti-pa - Combi Stickspear  
>d'lex - super-strong metalliccrystalline material  
>dah'kte - wristblades<br>chakt-ra - smart disk  
>sivk'va-tai - plasma caster shoulder cannon  
>te-dqi - xenomorph secretion; gooey substance that coats the walls, floors and ceilings around a hive<br>kainde amedha - hard meat; refers to xenomorphs


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: I do not the Predator or the Alien franchise.**_

Hey guys! I know it's been awhile, but believe it or not, I've been working steadily on this chapter for the past month. Hey, at least my extra long philosophy class is good for something, right? ;) Thank god for notebooks and thumb drives, is all I can say. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Show some appreciation and leave a review. :)

Speaking of which... Thanks to **xVentressx**, **xXxMudvayneGirlxXx**, **Lady Augustin**, **RevDorothyL**, **hippyflowerp**, **Billie O'Dial**, **DevilsDelusionalMistress**, **Inkoholic4U**, **ida-criss-wild**, **SaiLena**, **Lord Anubis Judge of the Dead**, **Linda Chicana**, **Luv4Uncas**, **Gothgirlie77**, **cursedgirl**, **SouzouWriter**, **storywriter1994** and **badass** for all your awesome, thoughtful reviews. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Syra grunted noncommittally at Amber's outburst. Correcting his momentary lapse of perfect posture, he pushed off the door and pried Zhali from his neck. He handed her to Amber without a second thought and picked the heavy drone's body up off the floor, heading off the direction of the medical bay. Amber tried to keep hold of the hissing ball of fury, but quickly gave up the endeavor as hopeless, letting the little snake race off after Syra. She leaped onto his back, clinging to him despite his furious growls and attempts to shake her off.

Meanwhile, Amber chased after them both, still trying to figure out what could have happened to cause Syra to come back dripping with fluorescent, green blood and covered in what looked like acid burns. On top of that, he was carrying, not only the dead body of a creature she had no desire to encounter when it was alive, but a baby alien that clung to him as if he were its mother. They made quite a comical pair, the alien and him. The child was quite persistent, refusing to give up its hold on his neck, and finally, he had to concede defeat, leaving it hanging there like some kind of scaly, green leech.

They reached medical bay, and he dropped the body carelessly on the metal table where she'd lain earlier. Though he didn't seem especially angry at the moment, Amber decided it wise not to question him, or speak at all. He strode over to the cabinets on the wall, pulling one open roughly and jerked out a jar of blue gel. He set it down on the table next to the body and took off his mask, hanging it in its usual place on his belt. He started to shrug off his bloody armor, but soon found his attempts impeded by the leech still clinging to him.

Syra was getting increasingly irritated, his hair swinging around as he tried to catch the child. Finally, Amber couldn't stand it anymore and burst out laughing. She doubled over in a fit of giggles. Part of her was amazed that she still had the ability to laugh. It felt good, surprisingly good, like a release of the tension that had been hovering over her since he'd stormed out of the room an hour ago. When she looked up, he was glaring at her angrily.

"S-s-sorry," she sputtered, still laughing slightly. The child, which she suddenly realized was female, still maintained her hold.

He rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing, surprising her. Knowing him, she would have expected more dire threats of a painful death, not mere annoyed tolerance. Finally, he grabbed the snake girl from his back and plopped her down on the table next to the carcass. He gripped her neck and hissed something at her in what Amber assumed was the girl's native language. She looked sullen, but stayed put, spitting at the carcass next to her.

Amber thought she caught a sigh of relief, before he turned back to the jar.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, cautiously approaching him. Somehow, after she'd watched him stride down the hall with an alien clinging to his neck, he didn't seem nearly as threatening.

He just sneered at her. She sighed. Nothing had changed. Well, maybe a few things. At least he wasn't shoving her up against the wall and...

"So!" she choked out. He looked up. "Uh..." She cast about for something to say. "Where did you get that... thing?" Amber motioned to the black carcass on the table.

He grunted. "A ship."

"What ship?"

"Her ship." He indicated the girl on the table.

"Who is she?"

He sighed. "She's royalty."

"What?"

"Zhali." She looked at him, bewildered. "Her name," he said impatiently, "roughly translated, it means 'writhing sky.' Among her people, the Sijila, there is a myth – purely misconception – that tells of a constellation seen from their home planet that looks like a snake. Supposedly, at a certain time of year, to certain 'chosen' people, it looks like it's moving. Only someone who could see this phenomenon would be given a name like that, and the only people who see it are descended from the Sijila's long line of rulers. Well, with a few exceptions among the general populace. The whole thing's idiocy. I've been there myself, seen the constellation. It could be interpreted as pretty much anything."

"Hmm." Amber digested this information. "So what does she have to do with that dead thing on the table?"

Syra growled this time. "You ask too many questions, ooman." He stuck his finger in the jar of blue stuff and started to smear it on his wounds. Amber looked away, disappointed. "My people call it the kainde amedha." She looked back eagerly, thrilled he was actually answering her. "I believe yours call it a xenomorph. We-"

"Wait, what?" she interrupted. "My people? I've never seen anything like that in my life!" He glared at her. "Sorry," she said meekly, realizing her mistake.

"There are many ooman laboratories devoted to the study of the kainde amedha. They hope to weaponize them. A foolish endeavor – the Yautja would never allow it. If the oomans ever got anywhere, my people would intervene and obliterate them, and any technology they considered a threat."

"That's it? You'd just 'obliterate' us and be done with it? What's the point of keeping us alive if you're just going to kill us as soon as we become a threat? And what about me? Are you going to obliterate me with the rest of us _oomans_?" Amber couldn't keep the anger from her voice.

"Mind your place!" Syra hissed.

"Why? What have I got to lose? You've only kept me here for a day, and so far, it's been the worst day in my life! Death would be welcome at this point."

"Would it, really, little ooman?"

He stopped what he was doing and stalked over to her. His hand came up, and she flinched, but he only cupped her cheek. He began to purr softly, and she relaxed and rubbed her cheek into his palm.

"You think the soft caress of death would be preferable to mine?" he murmured.

But she was barely listening. Her heart was pounding, filling her ears with the rush of blood, and all she wanted to do was climb his beautiful body and wrap her legs around his hips while he pounded into her. Vaguely, she recognized the danger of the murderous alien in front of her, but her nose was filled with a hot, bittersweet musk, and she couldn't think. Her hands flew to his chest, as if glued there.

His hands moved to her ass, and her breath hitched. His claws kneaded her flesh, as he smashed her body into his, and her arms wrapped around his neck. Her breasts tingled as she pressed them wantonly against his chest. His leg came up between hers and she moaned in pleasure at the feeling. As the hot skin and muscled of his thigh pressed into her core, the last of her inhibitions went out the airlock. He slid her up and down his leg and she rode it eagerly, raising herself up with her arms.

Suddenly, he stopped, and she felt the chill of metal under her chin. Dazed as she was, it took her a moment to realized he was pressing his wristblades into her throat. She looked at him, bewildered.

"So?" he rumbled. "Do you still prefer the touch of death?"

She fumbled desperately for the clear thoughts that had come so easily a minute ago.

"Y-yes! You bastard!" she stuttered, trying to push her body away from him.

He laughed, and it was an ugly sound. He spun her around, so her back was pressed to his chest, and his right hand cupped her mound. Before she could stop herself, she had covered his hand with hers and wrapped her other hand around his neck, over her head. The deep thrum of his purr nearly thrust all other thoughts out of her mind, until she heard his softly mocking voice.

"And yet, you lean into mine at the slightest hint of affection."

Amber sobbed in frustration, and squirmed in his arms, her emotions warring between forcing her neck to his wristblades, and just saying fuck it all and getting off on his hand. His hand pressed harder, and one claw slipped inside her. Fuck it. There was no way she was dying now. She pushed his finger in farther and urged his other hand to her breast, while she bucked against him. He growled in pleasure, acceding to her implied directions without another word. Another finger joined the first and pushed all the way inside. His claws scraped against her sensitive folds, and she felt a thrill of fear, until his thumb pressed hard and suddenly against his clit.

She screamed and nearly came right there.

She took a shaky breath, but it turned into a shocked gasp when his claws pinched her nipple. The zing of pleasure-pain was like an electrical shock straight to her core, sending powerful ripples through it and squeezing his fingers tightly. He growled, and his purr intensified, creating perplexing feelings of security. He spread his fingers apart, stretching her, and those feeling fled to the background.

Finally, he had spread them to the point of pain, and his thumb on her clit was creating real discomfort. She whimpered, trying to squirm away from the harsh pressure of his hand, but she was firmly impaled. His claws scratched inside her again, and this time it really hurt, bringing tears of pain to her eyes.

"S-syra," she pleaded, "stop, t-that hurts!" His hold tightened, and his claw scratched her breast, drawing blood. "Syra!"

"N'yaka-de," he said harshly. "You will call me n'yaka-de."

"N-na-yah-kah-day," she stumbled, "please."

He purred again, and his fingers gentled.

"Good ooman," he rumbled, and she was ashamed of the rush of pleasure that came with his words.

Then he gave her a finger fucking she was sure was the best anyone had ever received. He wiped his hand on her stomach and turned her around, giving her the most fiery look she'd ever seen. He pressed her to his cock, which was hard as a rock, and put his mouth to her ear.

"Go to my quarters and await me there, on the bed. If I have to look for you, you won't even be able to walk tomorrow."

She shivered, and by the time he'd lowered her to the floor, pressing her to his cock the whole time, she could barely stand. Her legs felt like jelly, but she tore out of the room as best she could when he reached for her with another heated gaze. Her cheeks were burning when she reached his quarters, the door still open from when she'd left. She couldn't believe she had just done that, or what she was doing now, for that matter. The beautiful bed of furs loomed in front of her, and she had to wonder what she was doing here.

It was so tempting to just run away and hide somewhere, from him, and the burning embarrassment of her actions. But she knew he would find her, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would make good on his promise. But had he meant he was going to beat her or... Her eyes widened, and she squeezed her thighs together in reflex. She gulped and stared at the bed again. The real question now was whether or not she actually _wanted_ him to punish her...

* * *

><p>Painfully, Syra turned back to the table, his loincloth increasingly uncomfortable. With a slight shock, he saw Zhali still sitting on the table, watching him eerily. He'd forgotten she was there, and it appeared she'd been watching him the whole time, something that irritated him. He was even more annoyed when he realized he still had to find somewhere for her to stay, somewhere that wasn't his quarters.<p>

He growled. Her unblinking stare was beginning to discomfit him, and didn't like it.

"You are one of _them_," she hissed in her language.

"No, I am the _worst_ of them." He stepped up to her. "I'm also the one who saved your life. You, a future queen. And you are indebted to a Yautja. Stings, doesn't it?" he sneered.

She spat at him. "Arrogant bastard! My people will find me! Then you will pay for your crimes against the Sijila! Maybe I will make you my personal slave."

He snorted. "Maybe so, but right now, _you_ might as well be _my_ personal slave, for all the rights you have. I didn't have to save you, and I sure as Paya don't have to keep you. I could just toss you out the airlock, or put you back on the ship and leave you to the kainde amedha." He stepped forward again, leaning in close. "So you'd better do as I say, and not make any trouble, hm?"

Her eyes burned with anger, but she nodded stiffly. "Very well, Yautja. Where am I to be kept, then?" she asked softly.

He thought for a moment. "Come with me. Have you had any food?"

She shook her head, hopping down from the table. He grunted, striding out the door as she hurried to keep up. They made a brief stop at the food storage room, where she devoured a hunk of raw meat without a qualm. He smiled at that before he could stop himself. Their last stop was a door, which opened to a small room with sparse furnishing.

There was a fur pallet, but it was nothing like the one in his room. Basically, the whole room was like a smaller, more basic version of his own. Zhali sniffed with ill-concealed disgust.

"It stinks of Yautja in this room," she spat, seeming to have regained her confidence. "Is there no other place for me?"

"No."

She hissed. "Very well. You may leave me." She waved him off imperiously.

Syra looked at her incredulously for a moment. Slowly, he turned and left, locking the door behind him. He shook his head as he made his way to the control room. He must be getting soft, to let her get away with that, child or no.

He sighed, and headed back to the medical bay, where he stored the kainde amedha carcass, so he could skin and clean the bones later for a possible addition to his trophy wall. He cleaned up the blood, and went to the control room. He brought up the view screen and looked at the ship for a minute. It was tempting to save the drifting derelict – it had a queen on board, after all – but he knew there was no time for such indulgences. He needed to get back to Earth, and then his home as soon as possible. He didn't have time to go back and get the head of the queen, no matter how impressive another queen's skull would be decorating his bedroom.

He set the targeting systems and fired, watching impassively as green plasma fires engulfed the other ship, disintegrating it within minutes. There was no sound to signify the passing of so many lives. Countless black, sinuous bodies gone, without one explosion, or even a drop of blood. It seemed almost disrespectful to kill so many with the push of a button.

Syra snorted, shaking off the foolish sentiment. A Bad Blood had no use for any thoughts other than survival and pleasure, though he sometimes entertained a few thoughts of delicious revenge.

He grinned.

They would pay someday, if not by him, then by one of the many others they'd wronged. He knew so many others with just as much cause to hate them as he did, if not more, and his clan grew stronger every day, as more Bad Bloods joined them.

Yes, there would be a reckoning.

But right now, there were other things to consider, such as the naked beauty in his bed at the moment. Now that was a distracting though. He plugged in a quick course back to Earth at top speed, ensured the cloak was fully functioning, and slid gracefully out of his chair. Syra prowled back to his bedroom, wondering what he would find there. Wondering what he _wanted_ to find...

The door slid open, revealing a pitch-black room. He breathed deep, inhaling wreathes of her scent. He heard a rustle, and his eyes shot to the bed. In the light from the open door, her head poked out of the furs, squinting up at him sleepily. She'd fallen asleep, apparently. _Well_, he thought, grinning, _time to wake her up_. He put on his mask and let the door slide shut, engulfing the room in darkness again.

* * *

><p>Amber felt a burning light on her eyelids. She squinted up at the open door. For a second, a huge silhouette blocked the light from outside, then the door closed and it was gone. She sat up, clutching the soft furs to her chest. Her heart was pounding.<p>

"Syra?"

Silence.

A soft laugh came from behind her, and she whirled around, trying to see through the inky blackness. Something hot drew across the nape of her neck and she jumped, leaping up off the floor. She tried to back into a corner, feeling her way across the room. She thought she had just touched a wall, when claws yanked her hair and a hot hand splayed across her abdomen, pressing her back into a huge, all-too-familiar body. This lasted no more than a second, then she was tossed violently back to the center of the room.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once; one covered her throat, while claws scratched her stomach lightly. Then she was spun again, and his hands cupped the backs of her thighs, while his mandibles drew her mouth open for his tongue to thrust inside. Funny, she could swear she saw him put his mask on earlier. Who cared? She moaned as she sucked his long tongue into her mouth, pulling it into a hot dance with her own.

He snarled and pulled away, to her disappointment. His mandibles slid down her neck, heading unerringly to the still healing bite wound he had given her in the jungle. She flinched, expecting hi to bite her again. His tongue flicked out, giving the wound a long, slow lick, so sensual, her knees gave out, leaving him supporting all her weight. He picked her up, hands still cupping the backs of her thighs, and brought her to head level with him. She was just about to bring him up for another toe-searing kiss, when he sunk his teeth straight into the base of her neck.

She screamed at the white-hot pain coming from her neck. Tears leaked from her eyes.

"Bastard!"

She slapped his shoulder and pulled his hair, trying to pull his head away. He drew his fangs out and roared in her face. He bellowed something gutturally which she couldn't understand. Amber hissed right back at him, trying to push him away. He ignored her tiny fists and began striding forward in the darkness. Clearly, he could see just fine in the dark.

Suddenly, she was slammed down, and a slab of cold metal made contact with her back. Her breath went out in a whoosh, and she struggled to draw it back in, totally winded. Syra draped her legs over his forearms, hooking his elbows underneath her knees, and raised them up. He dragged her forward, leaving her hips hanging off the edge, and in effect, leaving her helpless. Then he thrust into her.

* * *

><p>Syra growled in satisfaction when he entered her sheath, still so tight, yet softly yielding to his will. The rest of her wasn't nearly so accommodating. As he set a fast, steady rhythm, she remained stiff, clenching her fists against the table. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her jaw was painfully stiff. But the bitch had actually slapped him! She deserved some discomfort, or she would never be cured of such stupid tendencies. Still, he wasn't that angry at her, and if he didn't reward her on occasion, she might become even more rebellious.<p>

Syra stopped and pulled out, reluctantly. He took a deep breath, easily controlling his desire, and picked her up with his hands on her neck and lower back. He cradled her to his chest like a suckling, though she tried to push away, obviously still angry with him. He didn't understand her at all sometimes. To get so angry over a little bite... He'd bitten many females a lot harder than that, and they hadn't complained. Truth be told, if he wanted to, he could have his pick of the females in his own clan. His reputation from before his exile clearly preceded him. A bit too much, honestly. He had no interest in mating, or sucklings that he would have no hand in raising.

He wouldn't mind a few sucklings – he had always like children more than adults – but any self-respecting Yautja female would never let him near her sucklings. Unless she bore a son, in which case, she would hand it over to be trained by him, once the child came of age. This arrangement didn't interest him. Until he found a female willing to share her spawn, so to speak, there would be no suckling for him. Which was why this ooman was such a convenient outlet. She wasn't going to be having his sucklings anytime soon, which was quite a relief, to be honest. He was _not_ ready for children, not when he was a wanted criminal in all but the farthest reaches of the universe. But speaking of his convenient outlet...

He lay down on the bed, leaving her straddling him. She trembled in the darkness, placing her palms flat on his chest for balance. He purred, and pulled her down for a kiss, wrapping his mandibles around her face as his tongue slid deep into her mouth, flicking against hers. She tried to pull his mandibles away, but he pressed her face to his with his hand on her neck, and trapped her wrists behind her back with his other hand. He slid his cock through her folds without entering her, managing to induce a reluctant moan on her part, as she responded by grinding her hips against his.

Even though she was on top, it was clearly him who was in control. With her hands drawn behind her back and her mouth covered by his, she was as helpless as a kitten. She couldn't even ride him, as her knees didn't touch the floor. She became slick with desire, and he moved his hand from her neck to her hips, slowly pushing inside her. She started squirming in discomfort, and he reached down between them, stimulating her clit until she was so mindless, she didn't care anymore. She tore her mouth away from his for a second.

"Harder," she rasped breathlessly. She drew her head down his chest and flicked her tongue against nipple. He shuddered, eagerly ceding to her demand.

Their pelvises smacked together, and his hand released hers to squeeze her hips with a bruising grip. She slid her hot palms down his chest, and took his nipple into her mouth, suckling it. He groaned, nearly breaking her hipbone with his hands.

Syra lifted her up off him, and she protested at the loss, until he slammed her down, pounding into her cervix and eliciting a strangled whimper. Somehow, he was seated to the hilt, and the feeling was _incomparable_. They were so close, he could feel her heartbeat, so much lighter and faster than his own, like a bird. His little songbird in her gilded cage, her song for his ears alone. That thought seemed _right_ somehow, like no one else should ever share his prize.

Like he should never let her go.

Breathing hard, he increased his pace and strengthened his purr, endeavoring to make her come. He angled his thrusts, until her eyes shot wide and went black, pupils flaring wide. He did it again, and she shrieked, her passage squeezing his cock, as if begging for his seed. His thrusts became erratic, and he gasped for every breath. Then he roared, his seed jetting into her like a fountain, spasms wringing his body as his claws left bloody streaks along her hips. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder, too dull to pierce his flesh, but leaving marks nonetheless.

After a minute, she collapsed onto his chest, unmoving apart from her light, fluttery breaths. So delicate, she was, and yet so _not_. A delicate little doll wouldn't have sunk her teeth into his flesh, even as she matched him, stroke for stroke. No, she was a little warrior, his songbird.

His little sain'ja.

He laughed to himself. To think of her as a warrior was almost comical.

Syra rolled over to his side, bringing her with him, and covered them with the soft furs. He tangled his limbs with hers, and she burrowed into his chest. Clearly exhausted, she was already asleep. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed that. As you can see, I am improving in certain, specific areas of my writing. ;) Anyway, college is taking a lot of my time, plus I finally have friends, which is nice, but it is a real time-consumer. But I am still working on this story, whenever I get the chance, so whatever you do, don't lose hope. Even if it takes me a month to update. ;)<p>

**Translations **(in order of appearance)

kainde amedha - hard meat; refers to xenomorph  
>sain'ja - warrior<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.**_

Oh, God. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Well, believe it or not, college, dating, and driver's ed takes a lot out of a person. Not to make excuses, or anything. :P Whatever. It's here, it's long, it's smut... What more do you want? ;)

In other news... I have fanart! Yep, that's right, the lovely (and awesome!) **Jorda96** decided to draw Syra, and I'm pretty damn ecstatic about this fact. If you're interested (and you'd better be!), you can see it here: (ht tp:/ jorda96 . deviantart . com /art/Syra-thwei-badass-in-the-blood-fanart-289662392) **Edit: This is a new link, and hopefully it will work better. Apparently the last one was broken. :(**

Oh, yeah, and this story has officially topped 20,000 hits! A big thank you to all the ladies and gentleman (and fangirls :P) who made this possible! :)

Speaking of thank you's... Thanks to **xXxMudvayneGirlxXx**, **hippyflowerp**, **Rebel's Kitty**, **bar**, **SouzouWriter**, **godofMYw0rld**, **Lady Augustin**, **liad**, **RevDorothyL**, **Day-Of-The-Dead-TattooGal**, **Inkoholic4U**, **Hera**, **Jorda96**, **Luv4Uncas**, **Gothgirlie777**, **Ikko XelectricSurge**, **Predatorluv07** and **Master-Roku** for all your lovely reviews! Hopefully, you haven't given up on me yet. :P

**bar:** Oh, my gosh! You actually read around the smut? But... But... That's pretty much the whole point of the story! lol To each their own, I suppose... :P Glad you like my story. Have fun with this little gem! ;)

**Hera: **Aww... I'm glad I have such good timing. :P And I'd be careful with that knife, if I were you. I know taekwondo.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Amber awoke feeling the most rested she had in weeks. And the most sore. And considering she'd recently been hiking in the Amazon jungle, that was saying a lot. When she moved her finger; it hurt. When she breathed, her whole chest ached. Getting up from her warm cocoon of furs wasn't even an option. But speaking of her warm cocoon, it was clearly missing its main source of heat. Where had Syra gone? To train, perhaps, like he'd done yesterday? Maybe he was just an early riser. Or was he? She didn't even know what time it was. It certainly _felt_ like she'd slept for a day, but who could tell? It wasn't like she could go by the position of the sun.

Amber groaned. If she really wanted to find out anything about what was going on, she'd have to get out of bed. She gave an experimental twitch, and cringed in pain. No way. She'd just have to say here until Syra came back, hopefully with more of that magic healing cream he'd used yesterday. That stuff had been amazing, a miracle of medicine. Then she remembered what that little doctoring had led to, and she blushed. Then she thought about last night, and she was sure that her face had burst into flames.

How had she gone from a kidnapped anthropologist to being in a mutual sexual relationship with an alien, all in the space of a day? Maybe time just passed more slowly on this spaceship, or maybe it had been longer than she thought, because it seemed like days ago that she had held him up with his own weapon. This "no time in space" thing was killing her; she had always been a very punctual person, back before all this happened. Back in "real life," for this nightmare certainly didn't seem very real. But she had the bruises to prove it, so...

God, he was an animal in bed. Or on the table. Or against the wall. Hell, he'd probably do it standing in the middle of the room. But the bed was actually responsible for the bruises on her hips and pelvis. Speaking of which, even if Syra wouldn't heal her again, she knew the stiffness of her muscles would only get worse if she didn't move around.

Slowly, moving like an old, crippled invalid, Amber threw off the furs and rose from the bed. She took one trembling step, and nearly toppled to the ground. She caught herself on the wall and stood there for a moment, just trying to stay upright. Then she noticed the light pouring in from the window. It looked an awful lot like... sunlight. She gasped, and stumbled to the window, falling against it, as she gazed outside, stunned to see... Central Park. Right outside the damn window.

Maybe the door was unlocked! Now, she tottered over to the door, looking for a switch to open it when it didn't slide open on its own. She searched on the wall for a while, getting more and more frustrated, until she remembered the height difference. She looked up, and sure enough, there it was, just above her head. Holding her breath, she pressed the biggest button on the little console. She grinned when it slid open, and cautiously peeked out.

Amber could see no one, and the huge hallways were silent. She was about to step out, but then she remembered something. She had no clothes! It wasn't exactly a good idea to be wandering around in Central Park naked. She turned back inside and quickly searched the room for something she could wear. Amber's eyes widened in surprise, as she picked up the small, two-piece bikini that Syra had first given her to wear. Well, it was certainly better than anything else she would find here. She slipped it on and hurried out the door.

Surprisingly, she actually remembered where Syra had returned to the ship yesterday, and within five minutes, she was looking at the exit door. It was shut tight, with no visible way of opening it. Amber sighed, trying not to let her disappointment show. Suddenly, she heard a muffled shout, coming from the outside. She looked up just in time to see the door slide open, as Syra came barreling inside, or at least, his blurred, semi-visible form did. Her jaw dropped, as he tossed the man currently draped over his shoulder onto the floor.

Syra growled, and she scrambled away, but he was watching the man on the floor. He didn't even appear to have noticed her yet. He was breathing hard, and all his attention was focused on his new prey, who was now trying to crawl away. Amber eyed the open door. If she could just slip out... Her apartment was just a few miles away, and she could easily lose him in this crowded city. But the man... His future was not looking up right now. But did she even have a hope of saving him anyway? Why bother? Shouldn't she save herself, rather than doom the both of them?

Amber had only seconds before Syra noticed her. It was now or, quite literally never. She ran out the door without looking back. She felt like her blood was pure adrenaline as she raced through the trees. She didn't bother screaming for help, knowing it would only attract his attention, and it wasn't as if anyone here was capable of helping her. Half of them were just bums, and unless the other half was a squad of fully armed U.S. Marines, they would just get themselves killed.

After about ten seconds, she heard a deafening roar, compelling her to run even faster, dodging wildly through the trees. She reached the street, pausing for a brief second to consider the direction of her apartment, before she raced on, her bare feet slapping the sidewalk. However, as one might expect, running on the sidewalk in Manhattan was easier said than done. Pedestrians crowded her on every side, and though she might be tempted to think the crowd would disguise her, Amber knew it wouldn't help against him. Her only chance was to get far enough, _fast_ enough for him to lose her trail.

Unfortunately, she could hear him thundering after her, and he wasn't having nearly as much trouble with the crowd as she was. He just mowed through them, leaving a large, empty swath behind him. Amber looked back for a second, just long enough to run smack into something big and solid. She grunted and held her nose painfully. She just had time to look up, seeing the big, clearly muscular man, whose chest she had collided with, before she was grabbed from behind with a growl, and lifted high into the air, as Syra held her against his chest with one arm around her stomach. The man's jaw dropped, and he began stumbling back.

Syra looked down at him, regarding him for a moment, before he snapped out his wristblades on his free hand, and casually drove them into the man's chest.

He made a horrible, rattling gasp, as he grasped Syra's arm, now lifting him up off the ground. Syra made a rapid clicking with his mandibles, and Amber couldn't look away from the man's face. Time seemed to slow, and her face was frozen into an expression of horror, while his was frozen in surprise and pain. Blood poured from his mouth, and he made a choking sound as his lungs filled with blood. Within seconds, his limbs grew weak, as his butchered heart tried desperately to pump blood, blood that was quickly leaving his body. To Amber, those few seconds felt like hours, as she watched the myriad of emotions cross the man's face, the final one being confusion. Why had he had to die, at that moment, by this creature's hand?

Because Amber had tried to get away from her nightmare, and gotten someone killed in the process. Syra turned around and leaped out of the crowd, racing back toward his ship, and Amber hung limp in his arms. She barely registered what was going on around her. Tears fell silently down her cheeks; all she could see was that man, with two blades through his chest, as all that life just drained out of him in a few seconds. Syra caught the man he had first dragged in, making his way out, and tossed both him and Amber to the floor, roaring at them. The door slid shut behind him.

Amber barely reacted, not even catching herself, and the back of her head smacked into the wall. She let out a small cry, before the impact caused her to black out.

* * *

><p>Syra growled in annoyance, as he watched Amber's small form crumple to the floor. The tarei'hsan next to her groaned, and tried shakily to get up from the floor. Syra watched in contempt, sneering when he made a pathetic attempt to be intimidating. Perhaps among oomans, it would have worked, for the man was quite large, for a pyode amedha. But here, he didn't even come up to Syra's neck, and it was clear he had no real fighting skills to speak of. S'yuitde.<p>

"Wh-what are you?" he stuttered.

Syra rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He stalked up to the man, watching him cower, and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him forcibly through the hallways. He protested wildly, but Syra ignored him, heading quickly for a certain room. A door slid open, and Syra threw him into the very same cage he had used for Amber, originally. That was before he discovered just how useful she could be in his bedroom. Speaking of Amber, he should probably go check on her. Pauking oomans were so fragile.

He slammed the cage shut, ignoring the angry shouts that followed him out of the room. Syra strode down the hall, and sighed when he found Amber still lying limp against the wall. He patted her cheek roughly, kneeling beside her. She stirred, and moaned in pain, clutching her head, where it met the wall. She opened her eyes and looked into the opaque lenses of his mask. Then, the memories came flooding back, and a shock of fear entered her eyes. She glanced at his dah'kte and recoiled when she saw the blood, still there from when he'd killed the man on the street. He smiled at the memory. The one thing he enjoyed almost as much as killing Arbitrators, was slaughtering stupid oomans. His dah'kte sliding into their soft flesh, so easily spilling their bright, red thwei.

Suddenly in a much better mood, Syra picked up Amber, bridal style, supporting her head with his arm. She winced at the sudden movement, and trembled in his arms. Syra carried her with him into the control room. He sat down in the chair, seating her comfortably in his lap, and curled his arm around her. He pressed her head into his chest and began purring softly. Almost instantly, she relaxed into him and curled up in his lap. Syra looked down and smirked. He loved how his purring turned her into a pyode kitten in his arms. A Yautja female would never do such a thing, and Syra couldn't help but be a little smug over his effect on this little ooman. And his dai-shui... He grinned. Now there was something to be smug over.

Stroking her soft hair with his claws, he pressed a few buttons on the screen, connecting a few different commands, and setting a course. The ship hummed, and Syra felt that brief rising sensation, before the gravity kicked in, and the ship rocketed out into space. He leaned back, watching the planet on the view screen, as it disappeared in the distance.

_Finally, he could get back home._ It was quite a relief to be leaving that disgusting planet behind. Perhaps, he would take a vacation for a year or two, and seclude himself on a hunting planet somewhere. Sometimes, he thought he was getting too old for this life. He was barely a hundred, but being constantly on the run could take a lot out of anyone. But every time he thought about retiring to some far edge of the universe, where he _wasn't_ wanted for mass murder, he remembered how much he loved this.

That rare thrill, when he took the head of an Arbitrator, or anytime his ship outran whoever was after _his _head. It was times like those when he knew he would die before he ever gave this up; a valid possibility. For the first time, he wondered what would happen to Amber when he was gone. He looked down at her, and was surprised to find that her eyes were filled with tears, as she watched her planet slowly fade in the distance.

"I'll never get back home, will I?" she said, just above a whisper.

"No," he said simply.

She jumped, clearly not expecting him to answer. Then she looked up at him. She looked so sad, he thought he might have actually felt a twinge of conscience. Surely not.

"Why?" she asked desperately. "Why _me?_"

He looked at her intensely. He was silent for so long, she looked away, thinking he would just ignore her question. In fact, he'd found himself quite stumped by it. Why _had_ he picked her? Finally, he decided it was simply because she was _there_, when he'd been looking for an easy capture. Vaguely, he remembered his reasoning had been something along the lines of hunting and killing the small group of oomans he'd come across in the jungle, and the one who was still alive at the end, he would take with him. Somehow, that last one had been her. Whether it was luck of the draw, or she'd actually been dhi'rauta enough to avoid him longer than her friends, he couldn't say. But it was done now.

Suddenly, he became annoyed with her question. Was she trying to imply that he'd picked her for a reason? That she actually _meant_ something to him? Pauking lou-dte'kalei, she meant nothing more to him than a quick pauk when he was in the mood. Just because she was a good enough pauk that he'd gotten a replacement guinea pig for his clan, it didn't mean he was getting attached to her. He could easily snap her neck at any given moment, if he wanted to. It was simply a waste, that was all. She made for a nice distraction during his long, lonely trips in deep space. She was useful, _for now_, but if that ever changed, he knew he would have no problem ending her life. He might make it painless, as a reward, of sorts, for her "usefulness," but that would be the extent of his kindness. She was still just an ooman, after all, and hardly worth his attention, let alone any exceptions.

Syra growled, his good mood all but destroyed by his conflicting thoughts. H stood up, and she scrambled, trying not to fall off. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and lifted her to her feet. He used his hand to guide her out of the room, through the hallways, back to his quarters. She was silent most of the way, concentrating mostly on keeping up with his long strides, until they passed the pyode amedha in the cage. She craned her neck to see inside, struggling against him.

"Wait!" she cried. "Who is that? Syra, why is here? Syra!"

He growled, forcing her past the door, annoyed that she had stirred up the little c'jit, who was now crying and sniveling like he actually expected someone to help him.

"Ki'cte! Keep your pauking nose out of it!" he snarled at her, now practically dragging her behind him.

He shoved her into his bedroom and she stumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees. Slowly, she picked herself up, watching as he drew his ki'cti-pa from the wall, twirling it experimentally. Then he looked at her consideringly, wondering whether to just leave her here while he trained in the kehrite, or bring her along. Syra decided she would probably get up to more trouble if he left her alone. It was easier just to keep an eye on her. It was unlikely that she would try to go for his sivk'va-tai again, and if she did, she certainly wouldn't get the drop on him again.

Reminded of that humiliating incident, he was rough with her as he guided her out of the room. He grasped her arm just above the elbow, still marveling slightly at how his arm dwarfed hers. Soon, however, he began to notice her lagging steps and sagging shoulders. Impatient, he pulled her forward, only to catch her as she fell against him. He frowned heavily beneath his mask. He shook her shoulders lightly.

"Amber," he rumbled, "what is wrong?"

She looked at the floor, eyelids drooping, unresisting.

He growled. "Ooman!"

She jerked. "I'm hungry," she mumbled, before she looked to the floor again.

Syra froze. Pauk, he should have remembered that. He hadn't fed her in over a day, and he believed pyode amedha usually consumed at least three full meals a day. He could go for a week with nothing more than a few strips of meat, but oomans were weaker. Syra sighed. He turned around, picked her up, and headed for the kitchen. He set her on the table and went to the food storage, drawing out a plate of meat. He set it in front of her and leaned against the wall, waiting. She looked at the plate warily, and prodded the meat lightly.

Syra clicked his tusks impatiently. What was she doing? She'd done the same thing yesterday, right before she'd dared to disdain it. He watched her with narrowed eyes, and sure enough, after a disgusted sniff, she pushed the plate away. Then she put her hand to her stomach.

"I think I'll pass on that, thanks. I'm not hungry anymore."

Syra took a deep breath, trying to control himself, before he shoved it down her throat.

"You do not find it acceptable?" he rumbled.

She looked at him for a second. Then she said, a flat tone, "It's raw, it's _black_, and it smells like shit. I'd rather starve than eat that."

Syra struggled not to take offense. To insult one's offering of food was worth a challenge among his kind, especially among the volatile Bad Bloods.

"What would the little goddess prefer instead?" he gritted out, in a tone that should have warned her of imminent danger. But she was hungry and grumpy, so she ignored him.

"I don't know, maybe you have some fruit, or some meat that's actually _cooked?_"

Oh, she was really trying to test him today, and Paya's good graces. He would give her her _fruit_, but she would repay him for this favor. Syra knew he couldn't resist the thought of making her squirm. He pushed off the wall and went back to the food storage. He picked out a few naxa and turned back to her. He held out the sweet fruit. Her eyes brightened, and she reached for it, only to have him pull it back, just out of her reach.

Amber looked at him, confused.

"What would you be willing to do for this, I wonder?"

He took her hand, holding it tightly, and pressed it to his groin. She gasped softly and tried to pull away.

He didn't let her, and her eyes looked intensely into the lenses of his mask. They were filled with anger now, and a good deal of bitterness. He waited, and finally, she leaned forward, running her free hand up his chest. Her head came forward, and she flicked her tongue against his nipple lightly. Syra inhaled sharply, and his hand tightened on her wrist, until she whimpered. He released it abruptly. Amber used her now free hand to quickly strip off her scant clothing. His breathing quickened, and when she tugged at his loincloth, he pulled it off instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and lefted herself up, wrapping her legs around his hips.

Syra growled and griped her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his cock. His pupils shot wide, and his hands moved to her hips and squeezed hard. But as she slowly impaled herself, her eyes filled with pain, and she hissed, pulling herself back up in reflex. But Syra was having none of that, and pulled her hips back down roughly. She cried out and clawed his shoulders desperately. Tears ran down her cheeks. But he ignored her and thrust hard, all his instincts pushing him toward release. It was amazing how, in one night, he could forget her hot sheath, so much softer than a Yautja's.

Seconds away from release, Syra ripped off his mask and wrapped his mandibles around her face, sucking her tongue into his mouth. He grunted as he came inside her, and she tried in vain to make some kind of protest around his mandibles. With a wet, sucking sound, he released her mouth giving her one long lick up her neck. Amber shuddered and pushed weakly at his chest. Syra was inexplicably irritated by this, and released her with an irritated huff, setting her down on the table. Shaking it off, he replaced his mask and clothing, and tossed her the fruit. She looked at for second, then started to cry.

He growled. There was just no pleasing her, was there? Syra picked up her clothing from the floor and stared at it for a second. Hadn't he taken this away yesterday? She must have found it in his bedroom. He shrugged. No harm in letting her keep it, he supposed. Maybe it would stop him from getting so distracted all the time. He grinned. She was a delicious distraction though. He tossed her the skimpy clothing, and slapped her thigh.

"Get dressed," he said shortly. She didn't respond. He snarled. "Now! And stop sniveling."

Amber sat up, hiccupping in her desperate attempt to stop crying. She wiped her arm across her face and slipped into the leather two-piece. Syra lifted her down to the floor and dragged her impatiently out of the room by her arm. He made his way quickly to the kehrite, hearing her sniffling the whole way. It grated on his nerves, the sound like an itch beneath his skin, as if there was kainde amedha thwei burning into the base of his spine. He shuddered, trying to shake off the feeling.

The door to the kehrite slid open, and Syra left her in the corner. He whipped his ki'cti-pa off his back and ran forward, throwing it with a deafening roar. It landed 25 feet away, sunken halfway into the far wall. Amber sniffled quietly. He roared again, snapped out his dah'kte, and whirled through the course of targets, anticipating every movement, randomly generated by a computer located inside each one. Within seconds, he had cut through them like a swarm of bees. He heard movement behind him, and jumped forward, pulled his ki'cti-pa from the wall, and whipeed around, thrusting it neatly through the target's chest. He shook it off his ki'cti-pa and retracted it with a click, along with his dah'kte.

Syra entered a few commands on his mask, and the shredded targets magnetized, snapping back together instantly. They moved around menacingly, and he hunched into a fighting stance, curling his fingers. Then he leaped into their midst.

* * *

><p>Amber swiped at her face angrily. She was so angry that he had made her cry again. And on top of that, she was angry at herself for provoking him again. Sometimes, she just couldn't seem to help herself. He was so arrogant, and so fucking smug! She just knew that his face was frozen into a constant smirk when he had his mask on. And he'd been such an asshole all day, shoving her into the floor, pushing her around, <em>throwing her into the wall<em>. Although, that last one _had_ been right after her escape attempt, so that was understandable.

But still, he'd calmed down after that, even been... well... nice. For all of two minutes. Until he'd fallen right back into his ever-present bad mood. Was he always this touchy? Amber had to wonder if she was really the cause of it all. In the kitchen, she'd been confused, hurt, and overall, pretty grouchy from a combination of hunger and soreness. With those combined, she'd been short with him – admittedly, not the wisest move, and she probably should have expected some kind of retribution. So she couldn't understand why she'd been so upset when he practically raped her on the table.

She had been extremely sore, so it wasn't exactly _comfortable_, but it wasn't as bad as the first time. There was no reason to fucking cry over this! With that thought came another wave of tears, and a wracking sob that was quickly muffled by her fist. Fuck! What was wrong with her? It was almost like she was pregnant. She'd never acted like this before. Granted, Amber had never been kidnapped before either. It just wasn't fair, how he could look so fucking sexy, and be such an asshole. If he'd been nicer at first... Hell, he might not have even needed to rape her. But clearly, _he_ enjoyed it, so he probably would have anyway.

There had to be a way to improve this situation! Amber scrubbed the tears from her face and stifled her hiccups. Clearly, Syra enjoyed sex. So did she. All she had to do was nudge him in a less... volatile direction. Amber squirmed at the thought of so debasing herself, selling her body for her life. But she had no other option here. It was do or die, if not by physical punishment, the mental trauma would get to her eventually. She had to face the likely possibility that she would never get back home. That being the case, who would she turn to out here, all alone in this huge universe?

In all likelihood, any other aliens she encountered would be just as bad, if not worse, than Syra. It was doubtful that other beings followed the same morality as humans, so it might very well be that Syra was a veritable paragon of virtue among his kind. That said, wasn't it a better idea to stick with the devil she knew? And if she was going to be with him for the rest of the foreseeable future, it would be wise to keep him happy, rather than taking out his anger on her. Sooner or later, it was likely that he would kill her in a rage, or by accident, or that something else would end her life prematurely.

She might as well enjoy herself in the meantime...

* * *

><p>OK, so that wasn't exactly smut. Or was it? I don't know, you tell me, lol. :P So, that probably wasn't my best work. And I didn't deal with Zhali at all... So much to do, so little time... :( I'm kind of tired, so I'm blathering right now. I should probably shut up...<p>

Anyway! Ominous developments arise! Probably better things are coming up in Amber's future. lol, not really. :P And for those of you I told, that dude in the cage is the new character. No idea what I'm gonna do with him. You're probably gonna hate him pretty soon here, though, depending on how much you like Syra. Yes, I'm evil, what gave it away? ;)

Gore! Yes, blood has been spilled! Finally, that violence predicted in the first chapter has come to pass! Took me long enough, I know. I was rather proud of that scene. :D

So... Thoughts? Was Syra at his grumpy, asinine best, or have I been slacking off? Is Amber still a shitty character? Kind of getting discouraged with her, I'm so terrible at writing female leads... Anyway, leave a review! :)

**Translations:**

c'jit - shit  
>dah'kte - wristblades<br>dai-shui - Yautja musk  
>dhi'rauta - cunning<br>kehrite - training hall/dojo  
>ki'cte - enough<br>ki'cti-pa - spear/combi stick  
>lou-dte'kalei - child-maker; derogatory term for female<br>pauk(ing) - fuck(ing)  
>pyode - soft<br>pyode amedha - soft meat; refers to humans  
>sivk'va-tai - shoulder cannonplasma caster  
>s'yuitde - pathetic<br>tarei'hsan - unworthy opponent; insect  
>thwei - blood<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.**_

Hey, guys. It's been awhile, hasn't it? Just about 3 months lol. School is a bitch, and something else happened, that I'm not going to talk about. Let's just say that my life has turned into a real, live soap opera, and leave it at that. And I'm totally serious. If you knew what's happened to me over the past few months, you'd be amazed that I'm even writing in the first place. Plus, I have a boyfriend now, so he's been distracting me a lot, not that I mind. ;)

Anyway, here it is, a monster of a chapter for you. :D I spent a lot of time on this, on and off, so I hope you enjoy it. I'm certainly proud of it.

My god, you guys have been bugging me a lot! :P So many whining reviews... lol jk. Anyway so... Thanks to **Day-Of-The-Dead-TattoGal**, **xXx****SaiyanPrincessxXx**, **hippyflowerp**, **GrayHuntress**, **Ice Demon Ranger**, **Lady Augustin**, **bar**, **Jorda96**, **XelectricSurge**, **Predatorluv07**, **SouzouWriter**, **Wolf's Minx**, **Luv4Uncas**, **RevDorothyL**, **Inkoholic4U**, **storywriter1994**, **bookluvr888**, **silca**, **Cindy Medeiros**, **Iamluck**, **CandyCoatedJunk**, **Ikuni Hattori**, **Snowey Princess**, and **THE DEADLY ANGEL** for all your awesome reviews, which guilted me into writing occasionally, even when I should have been paying attention in class.

Anyways! I'm sure you're all excited to get to the chapter! So... Enjoy! :D:D:D

Yes, I'm hyper today. :P

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

It must have been hours before Syra finally stopped fighting the metal robot targets. He'd shattered them so many times, they must have finally tired of putting themselves back together, quite an impressive feat. He stood there for a moment, in the middle of the room, surrounded by the broken machines, as he surveyed the room, looking for an enemy about to attack him. When nothing threatened him, he retracted his wristblades with a click and stowed his spear behind his back. He stretched his fingers, curling and uncurling his claws.

Amber sat in the corner, trying to convince herself to go through with her new plan. It wouldn't be that hard, with him looking so sexy, standing over his defeated opponents, totally unfazed. He wasn't even breathing hard. So many muscles... Skin, glistening with sweat. Amber shivered, before she could help herself. But before she could go over and climb him like a tree, he walked over to her. He said nothing, and his mask gave nothing away. He simply reached down and grabbed her wrist gently, for him, and pulled her up.

Amber tried to touch him, but he strode off so fast, it was all she could do to keep up. He stopped at the kitchen, and she glanced at the table and flinched. Surely he wouldn't... But he ignored her, taking that black meat out and they were off again. He stopped at another door long enough for it to slide open, left the meat on the floor just inside, and backed out. Amber thought she could just make out glittering green skin before the door closed.

Before she could think about what that meant, however, she was being tugged back to the kitchen. He lifted off his mask, picked up another black steak and ripped off a hunk with his teeth. Amber watched in horrified fascination, as his mandibles efficiently stuffed the meat down his throat. Within seconds, it was all gone. He noticed her watching him, and growled lightly. She quickly looked away, trying to seem unconcerned. His cold, gray eyes regarded her intensely for a moment, before he lost interest.

Then, she was being tugged through the ship, rushing toward some new destination. That new destination happened to be his bedroom, which she was quickly coming to think of as _theirs_, where he grabbed a towel and dragged her into the bathroom. Tossing the towel on the floor carelessly, he began removing his armor and weapons. The loincloth fell away, and all she could do was stare. She looked up to find him grinning at her knowingly. Amber could swear his chest even puffed out, as he approached, well, more like stalked up to her, graceful as a jungle cat. He never missed a step, never lost that arrogant swagger.

He came closer, and Amber had to crane her neck up to look at him. She shivered, and struggled to keep her arms loose at her sides. Her plan was all well and good in theory, but in practice, the whole thing was much more delicate. But that wasn't why she was afraid, no, that was a much more primal instinct. That same instinct that warned an animal when it was being hunted, when a predator was about to pounce. Closer still, and she backed up in reflex. That was her first mistake.

At the first sign of his prey escaping, he moved in a blur, and took her wrist and spun her into his arms. He held her to his chest, one giant palm splayed across her abdomen, and purred. Amber tried to calm the thread of fear that went through her, and gave in to the heady aroma sweeping over her. It swirled around her senses, taking her inhibitions and leaving her in a haze of desire. One claw dropped down to her panties, slit the sides, and let them drop to the floor at her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck behind her, as he slid one finger inside her. She moaned, rolling her eyes in pleasure, that scent acting like an aphrodisiac.

Suddenly, she wanted more. His finger wasn't big enough, thick enough. She rolled her hips, rubbing her ass enticingly against his cock. His claws dug into her stomach slightly, but that was his only reaction. Amber moaned in disappointment, but it soon became of purr of her own, when Syra thrust two fingers inside, moving them expertly. She tried desperately to hike herself up and down on his hand. His skin, against her back and under her fingertips, was hot and leathery, deliciously rough against her sensitized nerves.

His chest puffed out as he inhaled. His eyes went black, and his other hand shot up to her breast, clawing the fabric off. His palm scalded her, and his claws drew blood, yet she couldn't bring herself to care. Amber was too focused on her wild, frantic rhythm, and the only thing she even comprehended, was his finger inside her pussy. He added two more, and she gasped, then moaned at the increased friction, and bucked even harder. Syra drew his long tongue up her neck, tasting her pulse, and nicked her skin lightly with his fangs. He licked up the thin trail of blood that followed.

His reaction was instantaneous. He sunk his fangs into her neck, right over the bite mark from yesterday, and his hand mauled her breast. At the same moment, he hit her clit hard with the heel of his palm.

Amber screamed. She tensed, her pussy tightening around his fingers, milking them. Fiery passion and icy pain formed a whirlwind around her, and she couldn't breathe. Her heart stopped, and her only thought was of Syra. She clasped her arms tighter around his neck and wrapped her legs around his thighs, grasping at him for anchor in a storm of passion.

A minute later, she went limp against him. She could feel him purring loudly, as his long tongue wandered lazily around her neck, savoring the taste of her blood. Slowly, he drew his fingers out of her, scraping his claws against her gently. Amber shivered, and laid her head back against his chest. Syra frowned and growled at her, until she turned around, leaped into his arms, and sunk down onto his cock.

Syra jolted in surprise, his hands moving instinctively to grip her ass. He shoved her farther down, and Amber winced, feeling the first inklings of panic. She took a deep breath, inhaling that delicious scent, and forced herself to stop thinking. Amazingly, it worked. After a minute, she went almost mindless with the pheromones that permeated the air, and everything in her body seemed to roll over and make room for him.

Eyes glazed and black with desire, Amber wrapped her arms around his neck and rode him like a stallion. She flicked her tongue against his nipple, then sucked it fiercely. He gave sort of a strangled trill, and cupped the back of her head to his chest. She was just getting into it, when he moved. Startled, Amber gripped him tighter, as he started toward the bathing pool, almost leaping into it in his haste. She gasped as she felt the water rising above her neck, but Syra straightened his legs, and it fell to just below her breasts. She shivered, and looked up at him warily. Slowly, his mandibles curled up in a twisted grin, revealing his huge, razor-sharp teeth. Her eyes widened, and she tried to scramble away, but he caught her easily.

He did nothing for a second, just grinned down at her, until one hand dropped down to stroke her clit in the water. His claws ran lazy circles around it, until she whined softly, making a wordless plea. He answered, thrusting his hips up slightly, just enough to make her gasp at the increased sensation. Quickly returning to her earlier, mindless state, Amber grabbed his hair and pulled, until his mouth was inches from hers. He flicked one mandible out toward her, as if daring her to do something. Her warm breath was all that touched it for moment, then she flicked her little pink tongue out, and licked up the tusk.

Syra thrust his hips again, rewarding her, then she took his tusk and sucked it into her mouth. His eyes were like a hawk's, always watching, always cold, though his body was like a furnace. Amber met his eyes as she sucked up the sharp tusk, licking up to the tender webbing. He watched her curiously, his eyes intense. She pricked her tongue, causing blood to well up in her mouth. But rather than flinching or pulling away, she let his mandible slide out with a wet pop, and licked up his chin, smearing her blood onto his teeth.

Syra's tongue flicked out for a second, tasting it, before he wrapped his mandibles around her face and sucked on her tongue. She moaned into his mouth, and started a fast rhythm with her hips, where his claws had sunk deeply, gripping them too tightly. After a minute, he came, hammering into her rapidly. She gave a half moan, half scream, and quickly followed.

For a while, Syra simply hugged her to his chest, breathing deeply. Amber was glad for the reprieve, and snuggled against him, her curves conforming perfectly to his hard muscles. After a few minutes, her eyelids began to droop, the deep thudding of his heart, and the soft sound of his breathing lulling her to sleep. He stirred suddenly, dislodging her. Startled, she lost her grip on him, and slipped beneath the water. For just a second, she panicked, before she felt his strong arm slip around her and bring her firmly back to the surface. Her eyes met his, and they seemed at that moment to be more like burning coals than their usual cold grey. Could hardened steel be set ablaze?

Then she felt something prodding her backside, and suddenly realized that he was only remembering what happened the last time she'd been under the water in this pool. Amber flinched, and floundered away as if she'd been burned. She looked up at him accusingly. He spread his mandibles wide in evil grin, revealing his huge fangs. Amber's eyes widened in fear, and she tried to scramble out of the pool. His hand shot out to grab her ankle as she was climbing out, but she kicked free.

Syra snarled in rage behind her. Desperately, she scrambled to her feet, slipping on the wet floor. She kept her footing, barely, and ran out of the room. She had just cleared the door, when she heard footsteps thundering after her, and a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very walls. Amber screamed as she fled desperately through the dark hallways. She knew she shouldn't have run, but it was too late to turn back now. He was so angry, he would probably kill her with his fists.

Oh, god, what could she do? Every second, he pounded closer. He was almost within reach now; she could feel his hot breath on her neck. Suddenly, she saw a familiar doorway. It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe... It would be a distraction, at the very least. She burst into the room and slammed her hand against the lock of the cage, just as a huge arm wrapped around her waist, grabbing her from behind. The man inside looked startled for a second, then he dove for the door, springing it open violently. Syra, with his arms full of a kicking, squirming Amber, reached out, but the man dodged him, and took off out the door.

At this final straw, Syra flew into a rage. He roared, his mandibles flaring wide in fury. He slammed Amber into the floor.

"Pauking little ooman bitch!"

He slammed his foot into her ribs, making her scream in pain, as she tried to curl into a ball.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "Please, don't kill me!"

He growled softly, and dragged her up by her hair, until she was forced to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, little kwei," he spit out disgustedly. "You're just going to have to make this up to me." His eyes still blazed with rage. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "_Good luck..._"

Amber shivered in fear. She looked into his eyes helplessly, as her own filled with tears.

"Please," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He sneered. "Wait for me here." Syra dropped her back on the floor. "If I have to come looking for you... I'll make you scream for days." He knelt down, running his claws down her belly, and farther. Her eyes widened, and she shrieked when she felt his claws scratching her pussy lightly. He smiled.

"That's more like it," he murmured, as he rose from the floor. "Stay," he said one more time, harshly, before he loped off down the hall.

* * *

><p>Ethan could no longer believe his eyes. Within the past few hours, he had been attacked by a giant alien, kidnapped on a spaceship, and tossed into a cage. But that wasn't even the strangest part. He'd been sitting in that cage, having resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him, when, out of nowhere, that girl, the one he'd glimpsed earlier, had burst into the room without a strip of clothing, dripping wet, and unlocked the door. Then, to top it off, she was closely followed by the alien, also buckass naked, (something that Ethan could definitely have gone without seeing) and grabbed the girl.<p>

Ethan was rather ashamed that he hadn't stayed to help her, but what could he really have done? It was surely better for at least one of them to get away. Although, as he was quickly discovering, there was no real "getting away" here, not on a spaceship. There was hiding, and that was about it. And he'd been looking for a good hiding spot for a while, but hadn't found one that he felt would really secure him at all. He was beginning to regret running in the first place.

As he tried to sneak through the ship, he tried all the doors he came upon, disappointed time and again when they were locked. Finally, one of them opened, revealing a rather bare room, its only furnishings a fur pallet, and several skulls mounted on the wall, from what he assumed were various aliens. He was quite disturbed when he noticed a human skull pinned to the cold wall. How gruesome.

He shut the door behind him, and moved farther into the room, cautiously. It seemed empty, and after a quick scan of the room, Ethan relaxed, with a sigh of relief. But this relief was far too premature. Ethan heard a soft hiss from the corner, and looked to find a little child, who more closely resembled a snake. What the hell was up with this place? Now a kid too? Maybe an alien slaveship? It was certainly clear what the girl would be used for, he thought grimly.

It was pretty fucking clear what they had been doing before they stampeded into his room like wild elephants. The lack of clothing could perhaps have been explained away somehow, but the alien's huge erection was pretty fucking telling. Who would've thought that sex would be the first thing aliens would be interested in from humans?

The snake-child hissed again, eyes glittering.

"Whoah, whoah!" Ethan backed away hastily. "I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. 'I come in peace,' right?"

"Another human," the child spat contemptuously, in a rich voice that was distinctly female. "Why are you here? Did that _suka_ send you to bother me?"

"What? The big dude? No, the fucker just kidnapped me!"

Slowly, the girl emerged from the corner. Somehow, she instantly retained a regal pose, looking up at him with interest. This creature, though it looked like a child, was clearly more matured than that. Her eyes glittered with cunning, and there were clearly many schemes already forming behind them.

"Why would a filthy _suka_ outcast bother with two humans?" she said softly. "His kind have only ever bothered with their childish trophies."

"Well, clearly, they've changed their minds, whoever they are."

The girls's eyes turned hard, and she stiffened. "_They_ are a disgusting, filthy race, only interested in ruling over planets so they will have prey for their hunts." She smiled, displaying a mouth full of shark teeth. Ethan raised his brow. "They tried to take my planet, but we destroyed their so-called warriors. They died, writhing in agony from our venom."

"Sounds like they deserved it," Ethan said carefully.

She only grinned at him. Ethan shuddered at the creepy expression on the child's face.

"If I help you kill him, will you get me home" he offered cautiously.

She thought for a moment. "No," she said simply, "he is different. He is not like the other _sukas _of his kind. He saved my life, and the royal bloodline. For that alone, I owe him everything, even without the fact that saving him grants him a pardon from my people, for any crimes he has committed. He may be a filthy _suka_, but I am not, and I will not repay my debt with treachery."

Ethan's face turned black with rage. "You can actually defend that bastard? He is raping that poor girl! What happens when he gets sick of her, and turns to you for his sick pleasure?" he shouted angrily.

She only laughed. "Rape? She looked willing enough before, when he was fucking her against the wall. Maybe they're having a lover's spat," she sneered.

"What the fuck do you know? You're just a kid!" he sputtered.

She looked at him disdainfully. "Stupid human. I will be a queen when I return home!"

"If you ever do." It was Ethan's turn to sneer. "You think he's gonna let you go? If he won't fuck you himself, I'm sure there's some other _alien_ what'll pay for the _privilege_."

The girl screeched, and leaped at him. Her hard, scaly body struck him full in the chest, right before she raked deep scratches into his face with her claws. She hissed, and he could see the venom dripping from her fangs. Ethan struggled frantically to get away, as blood covered his face. She stretched her mouth wide, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, he heard a growl, and she was gone. Looking up, he saw her flailing body dangling from a huge hand, which was connected to an equally huge body, which was growling menacingly. The monster tossed its hissing burden across the room, where she made a thunk against the wall. Scrambling up, she slithered into the corner, her eyes huge with fright. As Ethan looked up, he thought she had very good reason to be afraid. The angry monster he'd seen before had been serene compared to the enraged demon now before him.

Ethan stuttered, his tongue failing him in the presence of such inhuman fury. The long, black hair, where it was flat before, now crested up from his head. His mandibles were flared, and the quiet, rumbling growl emanating from his chest foretold of greater rage to come.

"_Quiet,_" he snarled, his voice sounding as if he was gargling rocks. His hand tightened into a fist, his claws drawing blood from his palms, as if he was itching to reach out and strangle Ethan. Finally, he seemed to control his rage, though it clearly still simmered beneath the surface. He reached down and grabbed the back of Ethan's shirt, using it to drag him across the floor. Ethan tried to resist, but the alien's grip was like steel, and he was quickly dragged from the room.

"Wait, wait!" he tried to say, hoping to slow the alien down. "You fucking alien bastard! Let me go!"

Ethan managed to get to his feet and tried to fight, but the bastard ignored him completely. The only indication that his attack was even noticed, was the evil glimmer growing in its eyes. He was dragged through the black hallways at lightning speed, and within a minute they came to a door, which slid open at their arrival. Ethan was thrown inside, with an angry roar following him. The door slid shut behind him, locking with an ominous click, and leaving the room in darkness.

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><p>Amber shivered on the floor, jumping at every little sound. True to Syra's command, she hadn't moved an inch, except to curl into a ball. Her skin was numb where it touched the cold floor, and her lips were blue, although she knew the temperature was practically tropical. It felt like she'd been waiting for hours, though she knew it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, maybe fifteen. In that time, she'd had plenty of opportunity to think over the happenings of the past few hours, and how much that day had gone downhill.<p>

She'd started the morning by angering him, though he'd miraculously forgiven her for her escape attempt, even made an attempt at being... nice. But then she'd blown it with her temper, which was hilariously outmatched by his, and his retaliation had been an unpleasant dose of reality. He indisputably had the upper hand here, and he made sure that she was well aware of that. The message he'd sent was clear: any airs or pretension she tried to use would be quickly and harshly put down. Her place was wherever he felt like putting her, whether that was under his boot, or on his cock.

As for the position she was in now, that was entirely her fault. Amber couldn't fathom what had happened since coming here to make her so stupid. She'd actually been enjoying his advances for once, and then she'd gone and ruined it, over something so trivial. Well, relatively trivial. Him nearly drowning her while shoving his dick into her mouth was hardly trivial to most people, but under the circumstances... There were much more violent things he could have done. Things he would probably do now. Amber flinched when she imagined his anger now. She took a shaky breath, and nearly cried when her ribs screamed in pain. They were probably broken. He'd kicked her with the power of a horse, and it felt like there were daggers in her chest.

Suddenly, pounding footsteps shook Amber out of her self-pity and straight into fear. She shook with terror, and squeezed her eyes shut as she began to cry. The footsteps grew louder, until the floor vibrated right next to her head, and they stopped. Amber held her breath in apprehension, waiting for him to grasp her hair and drag her away.

"_Get up,_" he growled, and Amber flinched harshly at the sound of his voice.

After a second, she finally comprehended, and scrambled up as quickly as her bruised body would allow her. Apparently, it wasn't quickly enough, however, because he grasped her arm and tugged her to her feet. A grunt of pain escaped her before she could muffle it, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he used his hand on her arm to tug her away, through the halls, to a very familiar area. Amber stared at the door to his bedroom, still open from when she'd fled, and tears came to her eyes. She tripped on the threshold, causing him to meet her eyes briefly. While hers were filled with tears, his were burning with barely contained rage.

He looked away, and Amber felt a cold chill run through her. The tears stopped, as if they'd never existed. She knew she'd get no mercy from him now. She'd be lucky to get away with all her limbs still attached and her organs functioning. Bruises were a certainty, and broken bones were more or less expected.

They reached the bed of furs, and Syra pushed her down on it. As she caught herself, her ribs gave another shriek of pain, and her arms almost gave out. That was fixed when he put his foot on her back and stepped down, flattening her to the floor. He knelt down next to her, but she didn't dare raise her head to look. Amber heard the soft "shink" of metal behind her, and jumped, her body flinching in reflex. Something cold ran down her back, and she shivered, holding her breath.

Something sharp sank into the flesh on her back, just to the right of her spine. She whimpered, and flexed her back in unconscious reflex, unknowingly causing the knife to sink in deeper. Amber screamed and clawed the furs on the floor. Syra growled and pressed down on her back to keep her still. When she still struggled, he tossed a leg over hers and straddled her back. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed her face into the floor. Completely immobilized, Amber was helpless as he used his free hand to carve her back. She had an inkling that he wasn't just carving straight lines, but after a couple seconds, her back was just a writhing mass of pain.

She screamed into the soft furs until she was hoarse. Then she screamed some more. The knife didn't stop its torturous path. Dimly, Amber felt something trickle down her sides in a warm flood, and she realized it was her own blood, fresh from the vein.

Amber lost track of time, and it seemed an eternity that Syra masterfully marred her back with his knife. At one point, she began to sink into the blissful relief of delirium, but his growls shook her to full consciousness, and the entirety of her pain. All through this agony, he spoke to her in a silky voice.

"Who is your master, little kwei?"

"You!" she screamed desperately.

"Who is your owner?"

"You!"

"Who has the power to make you suffer if you do not obey?"

"You!" she shrieked in agony.

Finally, he stopped. Amber couldn't move, she simply lay there, shaking with the force of her sobs. He ran a long claw down her back.

"Have you learnt your lesson, little kwei?" he rumbled softly.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice gone from screaming.

"Excellent," he purred. He rose from her back and knelt on the furs with his knees spread, removing his loincloth. He grabbed her by the throat and pulled her towards him on her stomach. He pulled her hair away from his face so she met his eyes. They were still like burning coals, while hers were glazed with pain. "Now," he continued, "why don't you show me just how well?" He motioned to his cock, and released her neck.

She gasped, as her back gave off a fiery wave of pain when she caught herself with her hands. Amber looked at him pleadingly, but he only growled impatiently. By strength of will, she dragged herself up to her knees, enough to swallow him into her mouth. She tried to suck him off, but he wasn't pleased with that. His hand on her head forced her to take him deeper, until she was almost choking. She gagged, and slapped his thighs desperately. Syra purred, and thrust his hips into her face. Right when she thought she was choking, he shuddered and growled, and thrust faster, until he came.

When she tried to pull away, she was met with his hand again, and obeyed his unspoken order. His semen burned her mouth, and the bittersweet taste was strange and unfamiliar. She tried to swallow it, but there was too much, and it leaked from her mouth, coating her lips and dripping down her chin and neck. Finally, he threaded his claws into her hair and pulled her away. She barely had time to gasp for breath, before he tossed her on her back, and the pain winded her. She couldn't even scream.

Somehow, he was hard again, at least enough to slide inside her and pound a rhythm into her bruised flesh. It took longer for him to come this time, and he had time to explore her body. He mauled her breasts with his hands, drawing blood with his long claws. He ran one hand down her soft belly, leaving long scratches, as he kneaded it harshly. When he came, he roared into her face, spraying his saliva across her face.

He started to stand up, pulling her up with him, still seated firmly inside her. Amber winced as his hand splayed across her back to hold her up, and the other wrapped her thighs around his hips. She put her arms around his neck to steady herself, as he made his way into the bath. She held her breath, expecting fiery pain from her raw back, but as he quickly submerged them both, she was surprised to find the liquid quite soothing. She sighed in relief, relaxing her muscles as she realized the liquid must be some kind of topical pain reliever. Strangely, there was no blood in the water around them. The strange bacteria-whatever in the pool must be eating it before it could even spread through the water.

Syra pulled out, and she met his eyes, relieved to find the rage was gone, replaced by some form of care for her welfare, apparently. Gently, for him at least, he pushed her head under the water. She closed her eyes and held her breath, and felt a tickling sensation on her face briefly, as the liquid did its unseen magic. Syra's claws combed through her hair, and her scalp prickled lightly. He drew her head up, finally, and examined her face. As he did so, he rubbed her cheek absently with his thumb, pressing over the mark he'd left back in the jungle. Amber still hadn't seen what the scar looked like.

Seemingly satisfied, he clicked his tusks and carried her out of the pool. To her surprise, the anesthetic from the liquid remained, and her back seemed to be completely numb. They headed directly to the infirmary, where he had healed her wounds before, and Amber's hopes rose like the sun. Syra laid her facedown on the metal table, and locked her wrists and ankles into the restraints. That was her first hint that this whole exercise wasn't going to be pleasant. That machine he'd used before on her wrists came to hover above her back, and her breathing quickened. Lasers? What happened to that ointment? Clearly, he wanted her to remember this lesson with crystal clarity.

He locked more restraints over her neck and thighs, leaving her back open, as her hair was drawn out of the way. The machine clicked on, and she couldn't see it, but she heard it moving over her flesh, and felt a strange tickling sensation where the laser cauterized her wounds. Apparently, that anesthetic was more powerful than she'd thought. The smell of burning flesh reached her nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

When it finished, he unlocked the restraints, turned her over, and locked them back on. Then he clicked the machine on again over her ribs. That was all the warning she had, before she felt that same intense pain as from her wrist before, as it somehow fixed her ribs. When that finished, he finally let her free, before he returned with the ointment, and let it work its magic on all her other cuts and bruises. Done, he set her on the floor, but had to steady her when she nearly fell. Amber felt very woozy now that she was on her feet, as if she might faint. Blood loss was the explanation her mind helpfully provided, and she resigned herself to feeling like shit for the next few days, if not weeks.

But Syra wasn't satisfied with that, and he headed back to another cabinet, after setting her back on the table. He came back with something that looked quite similar to a syringe, with a clear liquid inside of it. He tilted her head to the side, his thumb unerringly finding her pulse, and injected whatever it was into her neck. He handled the syringe with a practiced hand, no doubt quite used to providing his own medical care. Afterwards, he rubbed away the spot of blood left, licking his finger with a grin. The syringe, he placed into some kind of sterilizer, where it sat for a few seconds, before he put it away.

Immediately, Amber felt better, and her whole body tingled. Somehow, the shot had raised her temperature also, and she no longer felt numb with cold. She did feel much sleepier though, and she felt her eyelids drooping. Within seconds, she was slipping off into a dark, dreamy state. The last thing she felt was Syra's arms around her, and his scalding heat warming her skin.

* * *

><p>Yeah... Syra's mean. :( Silly Amber for ruining the moment. ;) lol Oh, and I'm not translating Zhali's language. :P<p>

Anyway... Keep up the reviews! They make me work faster! lol Not really. But review anyway. They do make me feel better. :D

Until next time... Hopefully sooner than six months lol. ;)

**Translations:**  
>pauk(ing) - fuck(ing)<br>kwei - sly


	11. Chapter 11

Uh... Hi... It's been a while. Yeah, I know you're mad, and some of you have expressed that rather bluntly. ;) Well, I'm flattered that you care that much about this story, and also grateful that I'm not around you in person, so that you don't end up lynching me. O.O All I can say is that I took 20 credits this quarter, and that _sucks. So fucking much._ I haven't really had time for this, so I've just been writing in my little spare time, when I'm not having a life. What are you looking at me like that for? I have a life, asshole. :( I just met the love of my life this summer. Hey! I'm serious! There is no need to laugh. Melodrama in a teenager is perfectly normal. Although I was actually serious... Why the fuck am I talking about this? I'm really tired right now... I need to go watch TV...

Anyway, consider this my consolation. I did a little *cough* experimenting *cough* in this chapter, with the smut. I seem to remember promising I'd never do anal in this story, but... Things change. You have been warned... :P

By the way, in case you guys haven't noticed, this story is pretty much an excuse to write sex scenes and practice my writing. The plot is going somewhere, but _very_slowly. Part of the reason this chapter is so long, is because I just had to get through so much shit, to try and find a place where I can skip ahead in time. But... I just ended up with more long scenes to write. :/ Oh well. I've been taking some writing classes, so I'm curious if you think my writing has improved at all, or if you have an opinion on it at all lol. Let me know. :P

On to business. Reviews... So. Fucking. Many. Reviews. O.O I'm flattered, and very proud, but holy fuck. 44 for the last chapter alone. So... I don't think I'll be replying to all of those. _Maybe_ some of them, and a few of the anonymous ones in just a minute. If you really have an important question and I don't reply, just ask it again if you really want to. I'll try to reply to the reviews for this chapter in a timely manner, but this week is finals week, so I do have to study at some point. But don't tell anyone that. :P

Also, happy birthday to this story! Yes, I fucking know it was a month ago. Dumbass. -_- I was busy. Anyway, we're almost to 50,000 views. Thank you all so much. I don't deserve it (well, actually I do. What have you done anyway? :P). In short, you're all amazing, and I wish I could make Syra real to give you an autograph or something. Yes, something... *sigh*

Sorry. Don't mind that. *cough*

Okay, I'm talking too much. Review replies! Yay!

**emochick22: **Why the fuck would Amber be with Ethan? Do you even want that? Do you really want Syra to be good? Because that's _so_ not happening. Trust me, you guys would rage if that happened. So... no. Just... no.

**Hera:** Bitch, please. My boyfriend will fuck you up. :P

**A Random Guy: **Yeah, the whole forgetting letters thing is because I don't proofread. Whoever said first drafts are shit? Oh yeah, Hemingway... Fuck him. But man, if first drafts are shit, think how fucking amazing this story would be if I actually polished it. Mind = blown.

**plear: **You know, I thought I'd heard that somewhere. It was just stuck in my mind, so I used it.

GUYS! I almost forgot, Jorda96 drew me this fucking awesome fanart. It's explicit, with Syra and Amber. So if you want it, just PM me your email address and I'll email it you, cause she didn't post it online. Trust me, you want to see it though. ;)

**Edit:** Wow, sometimes I'm fucking retarded. Merry Christmas! Yay, holiday happy time! No, I'm not on crack! Why would you ask that?

Okay. You can go read now. :P

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><p><strong><em><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.<strong>_  
><strong>

**Chapter 11**

Slowly, Amber stirred from the soft furs. Her whole body felt weak and sore, especially her back. She tried to rise, but fell back with a groan when her head swam. She managed to roll over onto her stomach, and got her arms underneath her, but when she arched her back, trying to push herself up, she nearly screamed at the agony that rose from her back. It felt like her back was being ripped apart all over again, only this time with a white-hot knife instead.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she sobbed. She lay there for a moment, crying softly, as all the memories rushed back into her head. She remembered blood, and piercing screams, which must have been hers. Then, crawling weakly away, only to be dragged back, as he took his sick pleasure from her mutilated flesh. But then... Soft kindness, the numbing of pain, and then, briefly, more, as he repaired the damage he'd inflicted. Mostly. Then she remembered the smell of burning flesh, and the tickling sensation on her back. She didn't dare to look at it now. She was afraid of what she would see.

As she had no desire tear the skin of her back again, Amber huddled into the warm furs, trying to remain warm. But she felt a sudden, intangible chill, that no amount of blankets would penetrate.

She started, when footsteps pounded outside the door. She stared at it, waiting for someone to burst inside. There was silence, for a minute. Two. A deafening crash, as something made a dent in the door. Amber screamed, and scrambled as best she could into the corner, dragging the blankets with her. Something else smashed into the door, the dent it made more like that of a fist. Then, a softer smash, away from the door.

A roar sounded, only to turn into a hideous screech of pain, which continued, for nearly a minute. It soon became so terrible, it was nearly unbearable to listen to. Amber covered her ears, but the piercing screams still haunted her brain. Finally, they stopped. She sat there for a few seconds, waiting.

When she could take no more, she slowly crawled to the door, slammed her hand on the control, collapsing back onto the floor. The sight that met her eyes nearly made her sink back into blissful unconsciousness. The smell was putrid, rotting. So much death before her eyes.

An alien, much like Syra, as far as she could tell from what was left of it, lay in pieces on the floor in front of her. It's head was nearly torn from it's neck, and the thick, black hair, was ripped off in places, leaving bloody stumps that oozed fluorescent green. The eyes were plucked out, and lay on the floor, floating in a green pool near the head.

The body itself was nearly unrecognizable, covered in blood, and separated at the waist. Unfamiliar organs spilled out from torso, and some kind of ribcage glistened white under the green gore. The clawed hands lay outstretched feebly, as if grasping futilely for some kind of mercy from it's attacker. But as Amber well knew, he had none.

Syra knelt beside the body, currently in the process of removing the head from the last bit of tissue still attaching it to it's former host. He, himself bore his own share of wounds from the fight; his chest and arms were covered in light scratches, most already scabbing over. One of his tubes of hair was nearly pulled out, and was bleeding profusely, covering his scalp in sticky green. His own claws were bloody, but there were no injuries on his hands, so Amber assumed that it had gotten there from the other alien, some time during the fight.

Finally, there were two oozing holes in his arm that looked like stab wounds. The jagged edges suggested serrated blades, and she immediately thought of Syra's dual wristblades. She gasped softly. She felt a wrench in her heart when she saw him so injured.

At her gasp, he turned around ans snarled. Then his eyes widened in surprise to see her lying there. He stood, and started towards her. She felt a thrill of terror as he loomed over her. What if he was angry at her for getting up? Or opening the door to see him? Or even some anger leftover from their last interaction?

She scrambled back across the floor, nearly choking in pain when she felt the skin of her back nearly tear in half. Syra grabbed her by the back of the neck, and she began to plead for mercy, almost incoherently.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she screeched. "I didn't mean to! Please don't hurt me again, master," she pleaded, sobbing now.

Syra could not hide his satisfaction at her words. But then his face turned dark, as he regarded his bed in a mess upon the floor, the blankets scattered around the room.

"Stupid ooman, why have you left the bed? I have already cared for your weak flesh, and I don't care to do it again. And be silent!" he commanded her harshly.

The flow of tears stopped instantly, a new wave of terror nearly paralyzing her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Syra's chest puffed out, as he turned her to face him, more gently this time. He saw her wince, and quickly picked her up, holding her like a child, with her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her skin became sticky, as it was coated in blood. She tried to keep her face from touching his bloody chest, but his palm forced her to him.

Syra gathered the furs up from the floor. As he worked, she felt his hold slipping, so that she was slowly sliding down his chest. Finally, she felt a familiar bulge between his thighs. Now, she was sitting directly on it; his hardness fit perfectly between her thighs. She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. But it was useless.

He stilled and huffed when she squirmed to keep from slipping to the ground, unintentionally pressing her groin to his in the process. His arm around her tightened and slid down, his bloody claws digging into her ass. Amber squeaked and jolted, trying to pull herself up, away from his obvious erection. He growled softly, and she stopped, forcing herself to remain still as he thrust against her. She felt his mandibles in her hair, as he seemed to inhale her. Suddenly, she felt a surge of arousal. She gasped, as she felt the urge to meet his hips with hers, to run her fingers over his hard chest.

She squeezed him with her thighs, pleased when his hands gripped even harder in reflex. She took a deep breath, hoping to lose herself even more in that delicious musk, but all she smelled was the ship's sterile air, intermingled with blood and sweat. But if not the musk, then... Was she actually becoming attracted to him? Not that that was a particularly difficult feat. His physique beat any human's without even trying. He was truly incomparable. Even among his own kind, he was clearly something to be feared, as shown by that display outside the door.

But still... Amber wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was better for her, in the long run, she supposed, to at least be attracted to the creature that was intent on raping her on a whim. Lately, at least. However, fear of Stockholme Syndrome was quite evident in her mind. If she ever did get the chance to escape, she would rather avoid attachment to the captor she'd be leaving behind. But, when all was said and done, there was the simple fact that she would _never_ escape, or make it home in one piece. And any good will she could garner from him could only make her life here easier.

He was an evil bastard, and deserved nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment, but he could make her life a living hell, as he'd made quite clear, and she had no further desire to piss him off.

His growls drew her back to the present, where he was waiting impatiently for something. Lying on the furs where he's dropped her, she started at him blankly for a moment, and impressive figure, towering over her small form. He motioned to his cock, which he'd apparently uncovered while she'd been lost in thought, and looked at her expectantly, with the most evil grin she'd ever seen twisting his face.

Simultaneously, Amber felt disgusted and turned on. It was just as big as she remember, although, granted, her last experience had been somewhat clouded by the water burning her eyes and nose. She grimaced for a moment, but his ensuing snarl of displeasure terrified her into submission.

Quickly, she rose from the floor, landing on her knees in between his legs. His huge cock seemed to stare her in the face, proudly rising to the ceiling. But his legs were too long, and her mouth could not reach. Realizing this, he knelt on the furs. This position forced her to her hands and knees, as she bent to take him into her mouth. Amber felt degraded and humiliated, kneeling like a dog on the floor, which, she was sure, was part of his intent.

While it was tempting to close her teeth on the tender flesh, she knew instant retaliation would follow. She went slowly at first, sliding his cock in, one inch at a time, until his claws threaded through her hair. A steady pressure made itself known on the back of her head, forcing his cock down her throat. He was impatient as ever, and did not care for her tentative ministrations.

Amber tried to comply, but soon began to choke, her gag reflex stimulated as he forced her to deep-throat him. Her hands pushed feebly against his thighs, but the steady force of his hands forced her to yield. Her eyes began to water, as she tried to suck him off despite her discomfort. He snarled in wild pleasure, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his climax. Suddenly, in one abrupt movement, she was on her back and he was straddling her, his cock still deep in her mouth.

"Swallow it," he snarled gutturally.

Too frightened not to comply, she fought a panic attack, this situation having brought back unpleasant memories of drowning. Then he came, his semen a hot, sticky flood in her throat. She tried to blank her mind and focus on swallowing it, but all she could think of was the pool, and the water, mixed with his semen, choking her. She was drowning.

Amber slapped his legs, but he ignored her until he finished and pulled out. He stopped back in disgust, as she coughed up his semen. She rolled to her hands and knees and vomited. When her stomach was empty, she curled into a ball cried, her whole body shaking. All this time, Syra had stood back, sneering in disgust as she vomited on herself and the floor. Finally, tired of her display, he reached down, dragged her up by the hair, and slapped her in the face. She gasped in shock, the tears ceasing instantly. He dropped her on the furs.

"Shut up," he growled.

He looked her over with a sneer. "Disgusting. Come with me. I won't have you stinking up my ship."

Amber was suddenly no longer afraid, her hysteria quickly replaced by anger. How dare he impugn her? He was the one who'd disemboweled a body outside, then spread the blood and guts onto her. It was also his cum which splattered the floor where she'd coughed and puked it up. She gritted her teeth in her effort to keep silent. He did not appreciate when she pointed such things out.

Slowly, she stumbled up from the floor. But Syra's current mood did not allow for her delays. His claws closed around her arm, and he yanked her up from the floor. He pulled her behind him into the palatial bathroom. There, he pushed her into the pool, quickly following. From then on, he seemed to ignore her, though she knew he was still watching to make sure she didn't leave.

"Clean yourself," he ordered.

Then he turned away, dipping his head beneath the water to scrub at his scalp. Amber stuck her tongue out at the back of his head.

"Don't make me put a use to that." Amber jumped, quickly putting her tongue away.

She slunk away to the corner, quickly scrubbing her body with her hands, watching the blood and puke wash away. She dipped her head underwater, cleaning the blood from her hair thoroughly. She swiped the water from her face, and looked over at Syra, who was still washing his wounds. He still ignored her completely.

With a sigh, she leaned into the corner, quickly becoming bored. On a whim, she let her fingers travel down, sliding through the water. Finally, she touched herself lightly, letting her fingers skid over the tender flesh. It felt good, so she did it again. Quickly, her aorusal from earlier was back. Her fingers gained daring, and became more exploratory. She let one dip inside tentatively. It felt electric, and she closed her eyes in pleasure, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

Her other hand traveled to her breast and squeezed it, pinching her nipple sharply. She gasped at the sting, which went straight to her clit. She thrust another finger inside, letting her thumb gently flick her clit. Amber was panting, her fingers moving in a fast-paced rhythm. Her knees went weak, and she leaned back against the side of the pool.

She was startled when her back encountered scalding flesh and hard muscle. Amber tried to jump away, but one huge arm wrapped around her stomach, effectively trapping her. Her hands moved to his arm in a desperate attempt to dislodge it. She gasped when his other hand replaced hers, three fingers sinking deep inside. She struggled, trying to escape from his fingers, far bigger than her slender appendages.

"Stop, she panted, gasping again when his claw brushed her clit. "Oh, god," Amber moaned.

She writhed against his fingers, her passage stretched to the point of pain, but his claw ensured that it was matched with intense pleasure. He teased her unmercifully, holding back his pace, until his fingers moved so slowly as to be almost physically painful. She whined, wordlessly begging him for what she couldn't ask out loud. Her own hands went to his hand, trying to force him to speed up, but he only laughed, and his deep purr vibrated through her chest.

"What is it you want, little kwei?" he rumbled into her ear. She sobbed, writing even more, and bucking against his hand.

"Is it this?"

His arm loosened from her waist, his fingers moving to twist her nipple cruelly. Amber squealed, arching away in reflex.

"Or maybe this?"

His hand moved down, tortured her clit until tears of frustration fell from her eyes, and she sagged against him. Then he pinched it with his claws. She jerked, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

His fingers stopped.

"Tell me you want it, little kwei."

"Please," she sobbed.

"Please, what? _What do you want, little slut?_"

"Please! Master, please!" She was screaming now, her voice raw.

"I don't think you want it bad enough, little kwei," he growled ominously.

"Yes, I do, I do! Please, master, yes!"

Finally, he relented, pushing his fingers inside her in one smooth motion, and squeezing at her breasts with his claws. Amber screamed again, as she came, her body arching like a taught string. His leathery fingers slid in and out of her throughout her climax.

When, at last, the aftershocks had faded, Amber sagged forward, held up only by Syra's arms. Her legs dangled, limp, in the water. She was still panting, and her whole body shook uncontrollably. Her cheeks were soaked with tears. She realized that Syra's long tongue was licking them up greedily. Then he lifted her onto his rock-hard erection, quickly coming inside her. She hardly moved during that whole time, and only mustered herself to wrap her arms around his neck, when he carried her out of the pool.

He went to the medical bay and set her on the table, while he cauterized and treated his wounds. They returned to his room, stepping carelessly over the eviscerated mass of flesh on the floor. There, he dressed himself, and, after staring at her for a moment, tossed her the usual leather bra and panties, which she quickly slipped into.

He pulled her from the room, into the dining area. Amber shuddered when she looked at the table where he'd raped her, on that horrible day. He went to the food storage and she grimaced, expecting the same treatment as before. Sure enough, he returned with that nondescript, black meat again. Amber struggled to keep her face blank as she looked at him, expecting him to hand it to her. Instead, he walked to the counter and began to burn it with some sort of cooking device. Amber couldn't hide her shock. Was he actually cooking it for _her_?

Apparently so, for he put it on a plate, lifted her onto the table, and gave it to her. She hesitated for only a second, then devoured the food, resisting the urge to lick the plate. He'd just finished eating himself, and looked up at her. He went to the food storage again and came out with a piece of that delicious looking fruit from before. He tossed it to her with a grin.

"You've earned it, little kwei," he rumbled.

Amber flinched, as she realized what he was rewarding her for. She had a strong urge to throw it into his face, but instead, took a small bite out of it. The sweet juice filled her mouth, tasting like nothing she'd ever eaten before.

Delicious.

As she ate her fruit sullenly, Syra pulled her along behind him through the hallways. Luckily, her back no longer pained her, thanks to the anesthetic in the water from the pool. They arrived at the training room, of course, and he left her in the corner, as usual, while he drilled. And drilled. And drilled.

Amber finally fell asleep to the hypnotic motions he made, as he gracefully leaped and pounced on hapless targets, pounding them into dust. When she awoke, she found, to her surprise, that she was lying, curled up in his lap, while he studied various screens in the control room. One hand absently stroked her hair. When she squirmed, he glanced down, and lifted his arms from around her, allowing her to groggily roll off onto the floor. She fell gracelessly onto her hands and knees. When she rose, she found herself kneeling between his thighs, and her eyes widened when she realized this. Quickly, she scrambled away.

Syra looked at her irritatedly when she backed into corner.

"Come here," he growled.

Reluctantly, Amber rose and approached him, slowly.

"Sit." He pointed at the floor beside his chair.

She sank down to the floor, folding her legs under her. Syra turned his attention back to the control screen with a huff. Amber became uncomfortable, and began to shift on the floor. Syra growled, and she froze. He seemed angry, and Amber could feel the rage emanating from his body. She shivered and hugged herself. It was cold in this room, and now she wished that she could return to the warm cocoon of furs in his bedroom. Slowly, she inched closer to the intense heat that radiated off his body.

But soon, she became so cold, that caution went to the wind, and Amber leaned against Syra's legs. Instantly, she felt the difference, his scalding heat warming her shivering flesh. Amber was always amazed by his body temperature, almost like a furnace. She felt almost suffocated whenever he joined her in the furs. He jerked when she touched him, and for a moment, his muscles stayed taught, then slowly relaxed.

Finally warm, she sat like that for a while, her mind wandering. Amber got into a lethargic, relaxed state of mind, and she thought clearly for the first time since he had hunted her down in the jungle and brought her aboard his ship.

"Syra?" she whispered tentatively, his name feeling awkward on her tongue.

His gaze shot to her, burning her with its intensity, and she quailed slightly. Perhaps she shouldn't have used his name, but she couldn't stomach calling him master, unless he forced her to.

Finally, he spoke, after what seemed an eternity. His voice grated unpleasantly, as he growled sullenly. "What, _ooman_?"

The term was almost a curse now, as if he were getting back at her, or simply showing her her place. Amber stiffened her spine, and plowed onward.

"Where are we going?"

He seemed surprised. It was the first time she had questioned him in such a way, using his name even. As a result, it took him a moment to compose an answer.

"Why should that matter to you?" he sneered.

"I only wondered."

Syra was silent for a moment.

"My home."

She looked at him curiously.

"Is that where your race lives?"

"_No_." The word was a snarl, as she decided not to antagonize him further with anymore questions. The room was silent for several minutes, until he finally relented.

"My home is the home of the outcasts of my people. We are the exiles who either escaped execution, or their crimes did not deserve it. Before, we were loners, isolated and hunted by the arbitrators, who took great pleasure in bringing our heads back their trophy wall. A few of us banded together, setting aside our differences for the benefit of safety. More trickled in slowly, and we became stronger. Our new homeworld is kept a secret; any one of my people would die before revealing it. And that, little ooman, is where we are going."

"Who are the arbitrators?"

He looked at her sharply. "They are bounty hunters, hunting us down for honor and glory."

"What would happen if they found your hideout?"

Syra growled and reached down to grab her neck, drawing her up to his face. Amber's eyes widened with fright.

"_Don't get any ideas_." His voice was deep and terrifying, and Amber felt a shudder down into her very bones. "If you think you can escape from me by betraying my people, think again. My walls are adorned with the heads of arbitrators who thought to best me. I _will_ get you back, and the pain you have felt will be _nothing_ compared to what will follow." He accentuated his words by squeezing her neck, until her face was cherry-red.

He dropped her on the floor with a sneer. Amber coughed violently, holding her bruised throat.

"I'm sorry," she rasped hoarsely.

"Your apologies are immaterial to me. I only care that you understand. I am not the only one who would take pleasure from your pain, should you betray us."

"Don't tell me you actually care about my well-being?"

His eyes flashed. "I've invented a lot of time in you. You make an excellent slave, and every good master takes care of his slaves." Amber could sense infinite satisfaction in his smug statement. To her, it felt as if he was crushing the last of her pride beneath his boot.

Shock and rage filled her mind. His words, carefully calculated to humiliate her, made her lose all reasonable thought. Amber flinched, as if bitten by a poisonous snake.

"I'm not your slave, you bastard! You don't own me!"

His smile turned ugly. He knelt on the floor, and Amber wisely scrambled back. Syra simply stared at her retreating form, grinning menacingly.

"Well then," he said slowly, his mandibles relishing the words, "if you are not my slave, you should be capable of exerting your own will above mine. Do you think you can keep me from fucking your little ass until it's bloody?"

Horrified, she stammered, "B-but that's not fair! We're on a ship in space! I can't get away!"

His mandibles curled wickedly. "Exactly," he purred. He began to crawl toward her, nothing with satisfaction her terrified expression.

"_Get away from me!_" she screamed, but she had backed into the wall, and Syra's inexorable approach grew closer.

Desperate, Amber leapt up from the floor, turning her back on him as she ran for the door. She got no farther than a foot, before his claws sunk into her ankle and he dragged her to the floor. Her legs whipped out from under her, Amber's face and ribs caught most of the impact, leaving her winded. She groaned, holding her nose, which was bleeding heavily, but it quickly turned to a shriek when she was yanked backwards. Her fingernails screeched on the cold, metal floor, but the noise went unnoticed, along with her screams.

His clothing landed on the floor with a soft thump, which seemed to Amber to be a death toll. Her screams quieted to helpless sobs. She tried to roll over, but his hot, scaly palm pressed on her back, preventing her from turning to face him. Despite her desperate struggles, he stripped her panties down to her ankles and tore them from her legs.

Amber's breath caught in her throat, when she felt his finger probing her dry folds. She felt it start to enter her, then stop, wandering farther up. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized his intention. But surely that wasn't what he'd meant!

"N-no! You can't do that!"

Her fingernails ripped and tore against the floor, but he easily held her in place with one hand. His other hand had reached its destination, and one claw slowly circled, then thrust viciously into her asshole. It wasn't immediately painful, but it felt intensely uncomfortable, causing Amber to whine and squirm, tensing against his finger.

"Tell me again how you're not my slave," he growled.

Amber nearly choked with rage. "Fuck you!"

"No, little ooman. Fuck _you._" His tone was so dark, Amber shuddered with terror.

He pulled out his finger, making her wince in discomfort. But she was not to find relief just yet. She screamed and renewed her struggles, when she felt his cock pushing at her entrance. He pushed inside her slowly, the discomfort becoming more intense, until Amber could barely breathe. Apart from the pain, there was also a feeling of unbearable fullness, which caused her to squirm helplessly, in an attempt to lessen the feeling.

When Syra had reached the extent to which he could force himself inside her, he drew out and repeated the process, this time more quickly.

He purred loudly in pleasure. "So _tight._ The little kwei still has some surprises after all. How does it feel to pleasure your _n'yaka-de, _little slave?"

"_Bastard!_" she spat. "You sick fuck! How can you enjoy this?" Amber was sobbing now.

Syra growled, thrusting into her viciously.

"It's a nice change from your loose cunt, little bitch," he snarled.

This continued for several minutes, her sobs contrasting with his harsh growls of pleasure. Finally, he finished, leaving his seed inside her asshole.

"Who is your n'yaka-de, little slave?" His voice was thick with the sense of victory.

"Fuck you," Amber sobbed, her words without much feeling behind them.

Syra grinned. "Again? If you insist."

"No!" Her voice cracked. "Please, no. Not again."

He crouched on the floor in front of her, and held her head up by her hair. She cringed at the glint in his eyes.

"I grow tired of your games, little kwei," he growled. "_Who is your master?_"

"You are." Her voice was soft, defeated.

"Excellent. Show me you believe it. I find myself doubtful of your sincerity."

Syra released her, stepped back, and sat back in the pilot's chair. His hands were clasped by his chin, and his legs were spread suggestively. Amber stared at him for a moment, wondering what exactly he expected, but he was silent, returning her gaze unblinkingly.

Slowly, she crawled to her knees, making her way toward him. His cock, the obvious objective, was already semi-hard, but thinking about where it had just been, Amber decided another option would be more appealing. She stood up, straddling one of his huge thighs. Hesitantly, she grasped his arms, pulling them apart to rest on the arms of the chair. To her surprise, they stayed there, and Amber felt even more awkward with this freedom.

Even sitting on his lap, the top of his head only came to his chin. Her fingers clasped lightly around his head, drawing it down. She gazed into his eyes, until she couldn't bear it any longer, and her eyes moved to his mouth, as her own grew closer. Her neck craned up, and his mandibles opened, revealing a row of pearly fangs. Her breath seemed to mist on them. Finally, her lips were no more than an inch away from his teeth.

Her tongue flicked out to lick his fangs. Amber felt strange kissing something with no lips; she wasn't quite sure what to do. Awkwardly, she thrust her tongue past his teeth, searching for his. At last, Syra took over, taking back control of the situation. His hands gravitated to her hips, squeezing them greedily. His mandibles closed around her face, and his long, smooth tongue rose up to entangle itself with hers. Syra seemed to suck the very breath out of her, and Amber felt light-headed and dizzy.

There was a ringing in her ears, which grew louder, until it consumed her hearing, and her vision dimmed. Among all of this, Amber caught that delicious musk in the air. It flooded her senses, and with her hearing and vision dimmed like the lights during a movie, all she could feel was Syra. He surrounded her. His face was in her fading vision, his purr filled her ears past the ringing and thrummed into her chest; in her nose, his scent made her wild, and his skin seemed to burn her fingers. His long gogue had captured hers, and the taste – musky, like cologne, with a hint of seasoned meat on the fringe – filled her mouth.

Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples hardened as she rubbed them against his chest. Syra lifted his knee, and slipped his other leg between hers. He pushed inside her quickly and began a steady rhythm. Amber tried to gasp, but he stole it right from her mouth and sucked her tongue into his. He felt so good inside her, and his scent made her match his pace, stroke for stroke.

He finished quickly, just as her insides burst with pleasure. He released her mouth at last and stroked her hair gently as she laid it against his chest. His deep rumbling purr acted like a sedative, making her thoughts slow, as if they were revolving in thick mud. Amber was nearly lulled to sleep, when a screeching alarm sounded, jolting her awake. Syra tensed immediately.

He pushed her to the floor with an irritated growl, quickly manipulating the controls of the ship. Amber felt insulted, her pleasant high so rudelly interrupted as she was tossed to the floor like so much garbage. She backed into the corner quietly, hugging her knees, while Syra seemed to ignore her completely. She watched him silently from her position in the corner, observing as his expression grew increasingly annoyed.

From what Amber could tell, he seemed to be piloting the ship. From the info screens, there appeared to be another ship flying around them. Was it chasing them? Amber grew excited, wondering why it was after them. A rescue sounded amazing right about then. Of course, she could easily be "rescued" by another of his kind, perhaps even one worse than him. There truly was no escape from this nightmare.

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><p>Yeah... that was a monster of a chapter. Can't believe I wrote some of that shit, honestly. That fucking boyfriend. It's all his fault. *cough* Anyway. Lots of backstory here, and a fuckton of sex, of course. Hope you enjoyed all that. :P Drop me a review. Or don't. I'll be watching Invader Zim and becoming a zombie in preparation for finals. In other words, I couldn't give a fuck. Just kidding. Review for imaginary cookies. If you receive them, you're hallucinating, and you should seek medical help. Or don't. Up to you. Bye for now. :P<p>

**Translation:**

kwei - sly  
>n'yaka-de - master<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Hey, I'm back. And I have a monster of a chapter here for you. Some people seemed very disappointed about the lack of plot I mentioned, so I hope this satisfies that for you guys. I've been looking for a point to move the story forward, and I finally found it. Next chapter we finally leave the ship, and lots of exciting things could happen after that.

Hopefully most of your questions will be answered here, cause review replies will be few and far between. I'll do my best though. :) Thanks everyone for your reviews btw, they were like little reminders for me to get off my ass and finish this chapter.

Moving on, this chapter is filled with sex, blood and violence, so hold on to your panties, folks. Should be a wild ride. ;)

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><p><strong><strong><em><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.<strong>_****

**Chapter 12**

While seemingly calm, on the inside, Syra was seething. How had he let his guard down long enough for this? It was insulting that an arbitrator had tailed him for this long, and nearly to his home. He should have been scanning for that every hour, at least. The ooman was becoming a potentially fatal distraction.

And now he had more c'jit to deal with.

While not usually a problem, it was always risky to engage an arbitrator. There was always a chance they were one of the few that had survived long enough to known what they were doing. The skull that adorned his trophy wall had been one like that. The little c'jit had caught him on a hunt, miles from his ship, and already wounded from the native wildlife. In an honorable fight, no Yautja would have engaged him, but there was no honor between bad bloods and arbitrators; bad bloods were stripped of all rights to such things. Any arbitrator with a lick of sense would pull every dirty trick he could think of. Anyone who didn't never lasted long.

And so the bastard had hunted Syra through the jungle for weeks until finally, Syra had discovered his ship, camouflaged deep in the jungle. He hacked the locks and used the tracking system to find him. Syra almost blew him into a smoking crater, but thought his skull would make an excellent addition to his trophy wall. Syra landed the ship some distance away, set it to self-destruct, and waited in the trees for the arbitrator to investigate.

He came running like his sucklings were on the way, and Syra jumped him. His dah'kte sank into the flesh of his back, just beneath the neck. The arbitrator screamed in pain and rage, but he died before he even had the chance to activate the bomb on his wrist. That was always the way to do it. You never fought them face-to-face; if he deserved no honor, then neither did they. That was why there weren't as many arbitrators as there used to be.

It wasn't like it was hard to become an arbitrator, and the title itself meant nothing, really. Hell, Syra could have been one at one point. He almost laughed at the thought. But an arbitrator who'd survived for more than a decade or so, long enough to have more than a few kills under his belt, _that_ was someone to be wary of. And there were few enough of those; certainly not enough to police their entire race. Back when the bad bloods had first banded together, their first order of business had been to take care of the overpopulation of arbitrators.

The Leaders – the original founders of their – had set a bounty for the head of any arbitrator they could find. While some were timid about hunting down the very Yautja they feared the most, most were eager for the reward, and none of them had anything to lose. They had already lost it all.

And so it began, the massage of the arbitrators. They were hunted down like rabid dogs, and put out of their misery. There had been losses on both sides, but he and the other Leaders considered it more of a culling of the gene pool. They wanted no weak stock in this clan. Just as the weakest sucklings were incinerated at birth, so their ranks were filtered. Within 50 years, the arbitrators were nearly nonexistent, but the ones that were left, who had been tough enough to withstand the onslaught, were nothing to be treated lightly. They were some of the meanest paukers in the galaxy, and any honor had long since bled out of them. Others had increased their ranks since then, but they were nothing like they had been. They were thousands less, and although the new recruits were much tougher, they were merely an annoyance for the most part.

But this ship looked battle-scarred, and any Yautja good enough to track Syra down had been around the galaxy a few times. Syra remembered suddenly, that idiot he'd killed earlier! Either they were now using the new arbitrators as bait, or this area was swarming with them. Either way, he needed to take care of the one currently chasing him and get the pauk out of here.

He also needed to treat his wounds and clean up the mess outside his bedroom. His arm would have to be treated to insure the right kind of scar tissue. Anything that might impair movement was not desirable. And he couldn't believe he'd become so absentminded that he'd forgotten about the corpse in the hallway. The skull would have to be cleaned and treated, and then mounted on one of his trophy walls. Probably not in any very noticeable place; that fight had been very unsatisfactory. The little pauker was definitely bait.

No matter. He could possible interrogate the lou'dte kalei chasing him. And if the Yautja turned out to be well-informed, Syra might even bring him to the other Leaders for more "intensive" questioning. A grin split his mandibles. The Leaders had some very methods at their disposal, one reason why Syra didn't care to piss them off. That, and he bore a rather close relationship with them, not to mention having put them in power. He had a rather large stake in their fate overall, for numerous reasons.

In the meantime, it was time to lead this arbitrator on a merry chase. Syra couldn't simply incinerate him with the ship's weapons if he wanted to question the bastard, though he was certainly in that kind of mood. The little ooman, Amber, seemed to have that effect on him. Her continuous resistance infuriated him. It wasn't something he'd anticipated. Still, he has all the time in the universe to break her, once he delivered his cargo. But first to take care of his current troubles.

Better to have the fight on land, where he could engineer an advantage for himself. Syra scanned the solar system, finding several optimal planets. He set a course for one of them and left the ship on autopilot. He had to stow Amber away and prepare himself for the fight. He had only a few minutes before the ship landed.

As Syra rose from his chair, he noticed Amber flinch and huddle further into the corner. It was amazing how she went from timid to defiant, and then back again so quickly. Every time he thought he'd convinced her of the nature of her position here, she defied him in some idiotic way. Syra found himself wishing she would simply obey him. Hurting her wasn't something he enjoyed, well, that wasn't precisely true. He did take great pleasure in causing pain, but that pleasure dulled somewhat with her. It was almost unpleasant,. Almost. Causing pain would never truly lose its pleasure for him.

"Ooman!" he called. "Come."

She simply looked at him for a moment, then walked slowly towards him. He grasped her arm and led her back to his quarters.

"Stay here," he growled. "If you get in the way, you will die."

She nodded and slumped down on his bed of furs. Syra stared at her, puzzled by this new obedience. Had he finally tamed her? Why did he feel disappointed about that? _Pauk._ He really was letting this ooman get to him. It wasn't good to get attached to a pet. Their lifespans were very short, and their frailty often snuffed them out abruptly. He would enjoy his pet until she died, and perhaps find another.

In the meantime, a fight planet-side was just what he needed. After that , he could use a sleep cycle. Dealing with all these pauking oomans, not to mention the bitchy little snake he'd taken onboard had tired him out. He could chain up Amber, though she would plead and whine, and get some much needed rest.

So many unwilling passengers were becoming a real nuisance. They all had to be fed, and when he fed them, they complained or threatened him. And with Amber, he had to stamp that resistance out, which took more time and effort. Although, punishing her was proving to be very pleasurable. When she invited his anger, it was hard to resist taking her pale flesh. If he had his way, her skin would be permanently stained with her pretty, red blood.

But the others, they were only annoying. Perhaps he could make Amber earn her keep here. She could deliver their daily gruel, perhaps a bit less for the little c'jit who'd tried to escape. That only invited trouble, of course, but Amber had to learn obedience some time. This could make an excellent exercise for her. He would give her strict, _clear_ consequences for disobeying. Being vague had not worked so far, and by now she knew exactly what he was capable of.

Syra liked the idea more the more he thought about it. When he returned with a new trophy to adorn his walls, he would give her her new instructions.

For now, he dressed to the hilt, packing up all his favorite weapons. His dah'kte and especially his combi staff, the only item crafted by himself, for his Blooding ceremony, were the essentials. The sivk'va-tai followed, of course. Fairness had been abandoned long ago. Though he would prefer the skull intact.

At the bridge again, Syra could see the planet approaching rapidly. The surface was covered by thick jungle interspersed with small bodies of water. He would have to take the ship down himself. With all the water around, Syra's cloak would lose much of its effectiveness. He'd have to stick to the trees. Still, a challenge was always fun.

The ride into the atmosphere was rough, but Syra managed to land and secure his ship inconspicuously, before heading out into the jungle. It was nighttime on the planet, and the surface was lit only by three moons, which seemed brighter than any star. Syra perched comfortably on a leafy branch and watched his wrist computer for the arbitrator's arrival.

Very little time had passed before it burst into the atmosphere, so violently, Syra thought it was attempting a crash landing. What a fool. An inexperienced fool. And Syra had been expecting a challenge. He observed clearly where the ship landed, very close to his own. Probably following the heat trail.

Syra quickly made his way there using the trees, just in time to see the ship fade away using its cloak. He scanned the area and noticed a cloaked silhouette hop into the trees. He smirked under his mask and followed the amateur arbitrator.

The Yautja's tactics were laughable, constantly scanning the ground. Didn't he realize he wasn't hunting prey? Any Yautja older than a suckling would have already abandoned the surface for higher ground. Syra had already given indications of setting a trap, just by landing, and yet this Youngblood foll rushed in without a hint of caution. He didn't even realize he was being hunted right now.

Pauk this c'jit.

Time to end this. Syra broke into a sprint and leaped down onto the unfortunate Youngblood. His dah'kte sunk into the Yautja's spine, right in the center of his back. The Youngblood screamed and flailed as he was pinned to the branch beneath him.

Syra leaned down and said in his native language, "You die without honor, Youngblood. Your head will adorn my wall, an ornament for me to gaze upon as I pauk my ooman pet."

He twisted his dah'kte, savoring the Yautja's final screams as Syra severed his spine, and ripped the skull away.

Syra stood and kicked the body to the ground in disgust. This trophy was worthless, barely even worthy of his trophy wall. This whole excursion had done nothing more than irritate him. Syra found himself eager to return to his ship, and mostly to Amber. This desire made him feel vulnerable, and angered him slightly, but he felt it nonetheless. His skin itched for her touch, though she never gave him that pleasure willingly.

Syra looked at the head in his hands and growled in disgust. Let the c'jit rot with its body. He tossed it to the ground and began to make his way back to his ship. The other ship he would destroy with the plasma cannons onboard his own.

There was no question, he wanted to return to his ooman. He would assign her to her new tasks, and then he would pauk her sweet flesh. She would not like it, and she would spit fire at him, but then she would inhale his dai-shui and forget all her hate for him. She always gave in in the end. Syra always won.

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><p>Amber lay back in the pool-sized bath, and finally began to feel clean again.<p>

She had even swallowed the water, using it as mouthwash, hoping to clean her mouth of the taste of semen. It had worked, and Amber had finally begun to relax. She dreaded Syra's return. She had tried to stay in his bedroom, but after a few minutes, she had felt like a trapped animal. And she was, very trapped. Finally, she decided that a bath wasn't too far from his bed, and she felt distinctly unclean.

But she knew Syra wouldn't see it that way. He would find her gone from his bed and become enraged. No doubt, she would find herself with more bruises when he returned. Amber was so tired of pain. She couldn't bear the thought of more when he returned. Her eyes began to sting, and she sobbed quietly in the huge bathtub.

"Amber..." a soft growl came from the bedroom.

Amber jumped and scrambled out of the water, quickly drying her eyes. She ran into the bedroom and promptly tripped on the threshold. But rather than landing on the floor, she was caught by warm, familiar arms. Amber gasped, her hands pressed to his chest. She looked up, expecting to see the usual angry expression, but instead saw a fire in his eyes. There was so much inhuman lust in his face, Amber trembled and her knees went weak.

"Amber," he growled again, more of a purr this time.

She expected him to shove her into a wall and quickly fuck her, but he set her aside, though his eyes still burned as he gazed at her. She looked at the ground and began to shiver from the chill on her wet skin. Amber crossed her arms nervously.

"Ooman." His expression returned to its classic sneer. "I have decided on something to occupy your time, when I'm not pauking your little _pussy_." He said the word with a purr, as if it was unfamiliar to him.

Amber flinched.

He continued, "Perhaps this will discourage you from causing any more trouble. Your new responsibility will be taking food to your fellow ooman and the serpent bitch. I don't think I have to tell you what happens if you pauk this up. Do it without making trouble, and you might find your life a bit easier. Unless you enjoy pain, in which case, please continue." His eyes glinted. "I, too, enjoy pain."

Amber shivered, and nodded quickly.

"But you can do that later. For now, you may occupy yourself as usual."

She looked up in dread.

"Haven't you fucked me enough for one day?" she spat.

He hugged and stepped towards her, crowding her with his size.

"I will never tire of marking your sweet flesh," he purred.

Amber's heart rate doubled and she gasped. She had never heard him sound so seductive, but at the same time, terrifying. He picked her up by the waist and ran his claw over her lower lip, pulling it down. Then he mandibles spread to grasp her face lightly, drawing her towards him, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth. She didn't respond until she felt his hand between her legs, applying a steady pressure. He claw brushed her clit and she gasped.

Finally, Amber spread her legs and hiked them up around his waist to allow him better access. He purred, a deep rhythmic thrumming in his chest and throat. His finger thrust inside her and his head came up to watch her face. Amber couldn't hide the pleasure she felt, though she resented his smirk. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, but in doing do she noticed her scent.

That spicy, intoxicating odor again, and Amber felt herself start to come, her pussy wrapping around his finger. She gasped, then screamed as the full effect hit her. As she writhed on his hand, Syra laid her on the furs, kneeling between her legs. Immediately, he stripped and tugged her hips up to his. Then he was pushing at her entrance, struggling to fit. He thrust inside and Amber gasped in pain. She shoved at his hips, trying desperately to push him away. She was already sore from earlier.

"Stop, stop! Please!"

Syra growled, but to her surprise, he did stop briefly. He leaned down and hugged her to his chest, supporting himself with his elbow. He purred even louder, surrounding her with the noise and the sensation. After a minute, the pain faded and he moved inside her again. This time she felt pleasure, and she realized how _right _this felt. In that moment, Amber knew she was ruined for any human ever again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to thrust her hips in rhythm to his. Syra began breathing harshly.

"Good Amber," he growled as he came inside her, a hot burst of cum filling her, some spilling out. The burning hot sensation made her come again with a shriek. At last, he pulled out and lay on his back beside her, pulling her small form into his warm chest. He wasn't even breathing hard, she realized, as he stroked her thigh absently. Amber felt worn out already, but she knew he would be ready to do it again in a minute. Although, if it was like that again, Amber didn't think she would mind so much. Maybe if she returned some of that pleasure he had given her, he would be nicer to her. It was worth a try.

She pushed herself up, and he looked at her suspiciously, about to sit up. She crawled between his massive thighs and leaned down, watching his mandibles widen in surprise. Her tongue licked the tip of his cock delicately and he huffed, his body tensing. Then she licked up the underside of his cock, and she thought she heard him groan. She she stretched open her mouth and wrapped it around him, sliding him over her tongue as deep as she could go, until he hit the back of her throat and she suppressed a gag.

She wrapped her hands around the rest of his cock and began to suck him. His hands tangled in her hair and she winced, expecting him to thrust painfully into her mouth, but he was gentle. After a minute, he growled and tensed, before he shot his cum into her mouth. It was spicy, just like his scent, but there was so much of it, she almost choked. She swallowed all of it, sat up and curled into his side. His arms wrapped around her and he purred. They lay there for a while, and she listened to his heartbeat, marveling at how fast it was. She was almost asleep when he stood up, startling her.

She watched him, puzzled, as he went to the wall and grabbed the chain hooked into it. Her eyes widened, and she backed away. He looked at her sternly.

"I have to sleep, ooman, and I have had enough trouble from you. It is only a precaution. Now come here."

Amber thought it was the hardest thing she had ever done to walk over to him to be chained up. He snapped the collar shut and led her back to the bed. He laid down and tucked her into his chest. Amber laid with him and listened to his heartbeat.

* * *

><p>Syra awoke, snarling at some figment from his dream. He heard a small cry and looked down to see that he was squeezing Amber to his chest. He released her and she looked at him, frightened. He purred and tucked her back into his chest, enjoying the feel of her tiny heart beating against him. Yautja were supposed to be attracted to their race's larger, dominant females, but Syra had always the desired the tiny ooman women. His entire life was built on fighting, and he would never regret that, but a small bundle of soft flesh was so much more appealing than muscle and scales.<p>

With Amber, proving his dominance required no more than standing up and pointing to his cock. She was finally beginning to realize the benefits of obedience, which meant an easier time for both of them. They would be arriving at his home soon, and the worth thing would be for her to sass him in front of other Yautja, especially bad bloods. They had a cutthroat society, and despite his high position, he could still lose it with one display of weakness, such a keeping a pet that defied him for more than a day. All the pets on his planet were hideously broken. They had been beaten and terrified into submission by their ruthless keepers.

In comparison, Syra had been kind. He did not desire a crippled sex toy, he desired a healthy sex toy, who sometimes had the urge to pleasure him of her own accord. But she would have to be at least respectful to him, if not to the other Yautja. She could scream at them all she wished, they could do nothing about it. But screaming at her n'yaka-de, that was another story.

They would arrive tomorrow, with no further mishaps. In that time, Syra would have to drill any further disobedience from her. He would be swift and harsh at the slightest disrespect, and provide great incentive for good behavior. Such as not getting punished. He thought it was an excellent plan.

Syra stood, dressed, and nudged Amber to her feet, unfastening her collar. He tossed her small clothing in her direction and motioned her in the direction of the kitchen. He picked up a few pieces of fruit and held them out to her with a smirk. She sneered at the fruit, remembering the last time he'd offered it. Syra instantly growled, startling the sneer from her face.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, quickly taking the fruit.

Satisfied, he began to instruct her on how to feed the other captives. She listened attentively, and for the first time, Syra noticed a spark of intelligence. He had thought her merely a pleasing toy, but perhaps she was something more.

He set Amber to her tasks, giving her orders to go to the keh'rite when she was finished. He left to go there now, since the hunt yesterday had been so unsatisfying. He had a new weapon to try out anyway, an exciting prospect.

* * *

><p>Amber trembled as she carried food to the man in the cage. She crept inside warily, and he sat up quickly when he saw her.<p>

"Lady, are you okay?"

She looked at him, too nervous to speak. Finally, she shook her head. He came up and grasped the bars of the cage.

"Listen, I feel bad about leaving you before. Did he hurt you? Did he...?"

Amber almost sneered at his embarrassment. Who had time for embarrassment here? She found her voice at last.

"Yes." She was almost surprised by the sharpness of that one word.

He flinched.

"That bastard! When I get out of here, he's fucking dead."

Then he looked at here with interest.

"You're not here to let me out, are you? I know you're scared, but if I could get some kind of weapon... We could beat him together!"

Amber stared at the puny man before her. In reality, he wasn't puny at all. He was big for a man, and while he was no bodybuilder, he looked very strong. But he was puny here, in a metal cage, begging _her_ for help. Syra would squash him like an insect, and then _she_ would suffer for it. Already, he relaxed in his cage while she bore the scars for letting him out. She went up to the cage and gave him the food, then backed away. He watched her, becoming more angry by the second.

"You stupid bitch! How can you walk away from me? You'll always be his bitch now!"

Amber flinched. Somehow, insults still stung more from someone from her own race. She supposed she'd expected sympathy. Certainly, she deserved it. Didn't she?

The snake girl was easy. All Amber had to do was slip the food inside the door. The room was dark, and she wondered if the girl was even there, until a flash of scales crossed her vision. Amber shrieked and slammed the door shut, gasping. As she leaned back against the wall, Amber thought she had had quite her fill of aliens for one lifetime.

* * *

><p>Syra wondered how Amber was doing as he made his way to the keh'rite. He grimaced at the thought of her speaking with the stupid ooman male, and for a moment, Syra almost regretted his decision to give her any responsibility. But they would be landing tomorrow on his clan's homeworld, so she wouldn't have that responsibility for long. The ooman would go to the Leaders, for a purpose that Syra suspected was not too pleasant, and the girl, Zhali, would be held as a political prisoner or returned to her people for some exorbitant reward.<p>

Meanwhile, after completing his duties with the Leaders, he could sequester himself in his luxurious home and finally focus on his new pet. There would be no distractions, no arbitrators tailing him, and there would be no escape for his little ooman. He grinned savagely beneath his mask, as the doors to the keh'rite slid open.

He went straight to his array of various weapons, sliding open the wall to reveal even more. Most of these were things he'd stolen from various Yautja science facilities, mere prototypes, and not all of them worked. Some of them he would release to his own clan's scientists, but a few he kept for himself, in order to maintain his own advantage above his clanmates. There was one he had high hopes for, a strange device he'd taken just a week before capturing Amber.

It was a modest black tube, known as a multispear. It was similar to an unexpanded combi stick, but in the hands of its creators, Syra had watched it form into countless weapons. He'd read their notes and blueprints, and picked up a vague idea of how it worked. He picked it up carefully from its place on the wall, slid shut the weapons compartment, and made his way to the center of the keh'rite. There, he took a simple fighting stance, and pictured a simple, double-bladed spear.

Two shining metal spears shot instantly from the sides, and Syra's eyes widened.

_Pauking c'jit, it really works._

As he prepared to give the weapon a real test in combat, Syra noticed Amber's tiny pink face peer through the doorway and felt his blood heat. He motioned her to the corner and thought perhaps this training wouldn't last so long after all. She was due for another visit to his trophy room, as he'd promised that Yautja earlier.

Syra grinned and launched into his most testing combat protocol. These robots were designed after the kainde amedha, from their flesh and forms to each action they made. The only thing they lacked was acid blood. That addition would undoubtedly end with some damage to his ship, and more danger than he cared for in a training session. He heard a small gasp from his ooman, and saw her face awed and disgusted by the creatures now surrounding him. He chuffed at her obvious cowardice; the pyode amedha were such a weak race.

Turning back to the robots, Syra took an aggressive stance and extended the multispear into his own combi stick. One of the robots hissed and twitched its tail, and Syra whipped to the side as the knife-like tail headed straight for his chest. Spinning around, he leaped into the fray, coming down with his spear sinking through the robot's head. The others didn't wait for him to finish, but proceeded to dogpile on him. He switched the spear into serrated blades and spun through them, cutting to pieces the few that didn't leap back.

Syra switched to a gutting style blade and impaled another on the tip, but suddenly heard a scream that sounded very familiar.

"_Syra, no! Behind you!_"

He tossed away the robot and whipped around to find Amber running straight between him and a poised tail. If she was injured by that, she would die! Why would the stupid girl put herself in danger for him? Syra roared and shoved her behind him, hearing her breathless squeak as she hit the floor. The robot's tail left a jagged tear across his chest before he caught it, yanked it forward, and bashed the thing into the floor, until it shattered.

He turned to see Amber crawling away from the other robots, and growled. To see her in danger made his blood rise even more than lust. He made short work of the stupid robots with his dah'kte, and after he retrieved the multispear, he went straight for Amber, still huddling on the floor. She saw him striding towards her, dah'kte still fully extended, and scrambled back a few feet before he caught her. She flinched at his touch, and remained tense even when he knelt on the floor and held her to his chest. The blood from his wound slowly oozed onto her as he prodded her body for injuries until he saw her flinch again. She'd landed on her side before, and her ribs were bruised from the fall. Nothing serious, no fractures that he could see from his mask. It was no discomfort that she didn't deserve for her stupid behavior.

Satisfied that she was uninjured, he finally growled at her.

"Stupid ooman! Why would you do that?" He cuffed her lightly.

Those silly tears came to her eyes, and she whimpered. "I-I'm sorry. I thought you were going to die!"

He chuffed in disdain. "Even if I did, which is impossible, since when do you care for my life, little ooman? You've tried to take it yourself if memory serves. My death or injury should be a blessing you to."

She said nothing, but wouldn't meet his eyes. Finally, he grinned.

"Could it be you've finally realized the danger of being alone out here? That I am not so bad as any other creature you might encounter?"

Amber sneered. "The devil you know," she said bitterly.

Syra trilled in laughter. "Your insolence is endless, it seems." His eyes glittered beneath the opaque lenses. "We'll have to put an end to that soon."

She shivered in his arms, curling up defensively. Syra stood, pulling her to her feet beside him. He tilted her head up to face him.

"We will arrive at my homeworld tomorrow. There will be millions of other Yautja far crueler than I to their pets, but they cannot touch you, so long as you surrender to me completely. Every word I say is from Paya herself as far as you're concerned. Do you understand?"

He squeezed her neck lightly, and she went to her tiptoes in response. Her eyes widened, but her mouth tightened stubbornly.

Syra growled and shook her. "Amber, if you do not obey me when we reach the surface, I will make those marks on your back disappear with a sheet of scars. I will skin you alive and watch you suffer while it grows back over many months. I will rip your eyes out and let them dangle from my neck while I lead you around by a chain made of your scalped hair. _Do you understand?_"

Her throat moved as she swallowed nervously. "Yes," she squeaked.

Satisfied, Syra released her neck and grabbed her arm. He stowed his weapons and placed his mask on his belt, breathing deeply and stretching his mandibles.

"Come, pet, I have something to show you," he purred lasciviously.

She looked at him in apprehension, and he felt her pulse rise in her arm. But she didn't resist him as he led her through the halls. Not until they reached the door to the trophy room, where she stopped short, causing her arm to be yanked forward and she stumbled after him.

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her voice shaking.

He grinned, turning back to her. "Why do you think? I thought you looked delicious on that queen's head over there. Show me what you can do."

She looked indignant, and opened her mouth, but Syra cut her off.

"Consider this practice for tomorrow," he purred as he stroked her hair, suddenly tightening his fist and pulling her hair back.

She whimpered and nodded, and he released her. Trying to hide her annoyed expression from him, she moved haltingly to the kainde amedha queen. Syra crossed his arms and nodded towards it.

"Give me something to see, kwei," he purred.

She took on a blank expression and began to strip her scant clothing. Syra chuffed in annoyance. She was hardly trying.

"Is this why you were a virgin, pet, because you were so dull and unimpressive to your stupid kind?"

Her eyes jumped up to his, glaring. "You asshole!" she screeched, but he growled so loudly that she stopped.

_Too late_ _now, pet_.

He walked to her and watched her huddle into the corner, hiding her face. He knelt down and laid his palm on her back, lightly touching the red scars. She jumped and tried to put her back to the wall, but in doing so she revealed her face. He grabbed her chin roughly.

"I warned you, pet. You must enjoy punishment for how much you defy me." His fingers squeezed on her jaw, feeling the weakness of her bones.

She cried in pain, then said desperately, "W-wait, wait! I'm sorry, I'll do better, I swear."

He growled, and his other hand went up to stroke her hair. "Yes, you will, kwei, or I will show you what real pain is."

With that, he released her and stood back, leaning back against the far wall. Slowly, she got up from the floor and started to strip again. But this time, her movements were measured, as she leisurely removed each piece of clothing. She hesitated for a moment, but went to the skull and leaned forward. She shook her ass at him, revealing her pink flesh for just an instant, while her tongue went up the top of the queen's head.

Syra's hands became fists as he struggled not to pull her back onto his cock. Finally, she turned around and leaned back against the skull, splayed out. Her hands went down, spreading herself, while two fingers went inside. Her eyes shut and she exhaled softly, her face frozen in concentration. Syra's eyes were locked on her fingers, almost hypnotized by their movement. If only they moved so gently on his flesh, although he did enjoy a rough touch.

After a minute, he could take no more and approached her, shedding his codpiece. His large hand engulfed her wrist and her eyes shot open, startled. She watched him apprehensively, as he pulled her hand to his mouth. His tongue came out and licked her fingers greedily, while a loud purr started in his chest. His eyes met hers intensely, while he pulled her soft hand down to his cock, which grew even more painfully erect at her touch.

"See how greatly I desire you, Amber?" Her eyes widened, and her hand moved tentatively. "Are you wet for me?" he growled harshly. "Is your pussy hot and tight?"

His other hand went between her legs, and she gasped, nodding.

Syra growled. "How do you respond to your master, ooman?"

"Yes!" she squealed, as his grip on her wrist tightened.

"Yes, what, slave?"

Amber flinched and stared for a moment. Syra waited.

"Yes, master."

His mandibles curved in smug victory. He purred and stroked her pussy, moving his other hand to her neck to draw her close.

"The word you will use is 'n'yaka-de'. Say it now."

"N'yaka-de."

"Good, pet. Perhaps I won't have to skin you after all."

She glared at him, until she saw his teasing grin. She just looked shocked, until he moved his cock to her pussy, thrusting at the entrance. She flinched, and he watched as her face tightened in fear. Syra purred, and began to secrete his dai-shui. Her nostrils flared, and her pupils dilated until her eyes were nearly black. Her hand was still on his cock and it moved finally, pulling him inside her, while she thrust her hips forward.

She was like silk, and he slid inside deliciously slow, despite her urging. Her hands went to his chest, and when he hit an angled thrust, she moaned and clawed his scaled flesh. He growled and ran his claws gently down her flank, savoring the silky skin. Her pale body against his own hard won trophy was unbelievably arousing, and he finished quickly after that. As he came, his dai-shui stimulated a similar reaction in Amber.

Syra watched in fascination as her expression went to one of intense pleasure, something he didn't often get to see. As her eyes opened, he looked at her with his mandibles curved smugly.

He said mockingly, "Was it good for you?"

She glared hatefully at him, and he almost regretted seeing her turn so quickly back to hating him.

"Yes, _n'yaka-de_," she spat, "your skill is unmatched."

"Yes, it is. No ooman could give you such pleasure." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "And if there was, I would cut off his puny, little cock and ensure he could pleasure no one again."

With that, Syra pulled away and retrieved his clothing from the floor. He took Amber's unresisting hand and pulled her down from the queen's skull.

"Come. I must see to the ship."

She nodded and bent to pick up her clothes, and Syra purred at the sight of her backside, presented so temptingly. He slapped it lightly, and she squealed. He trilled in amusement and she glared at him. He beckoned impatiently and waited for her to approach him. Syra nudged her in front of him, his hand on her back.

He watched her hips sway and thought about what he would do to that tight ass.

* * *

><p>Well, I hope that satisfied all your expectations, cause it could definitely be a while before the next chapter. Probably another 6 months, but reviews always keep me going a little faster. ;)<p>

Bye for now, see you in the reviews! :)

**Translation:**

c'jit - shit  
>dah'kte - wristblades<br>pauk - fuck  
>lou'dte kalei - child-maker (slang for female)<br>sivk'va-tai - plasma caster  
>dai-shui - Yautja musk<br>n'yaka-de - master  
>keh'rite - training room<br>kainde amedha - hard meat (xenomorph)  
>pyode amedha - soft meat (human)<br>Paya - Yautja deity  
>kwei - sly<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Ha! I'm back in under 6 months! Can't believe I did it, especially with all the crap that went on in the reviews last chapter. I may have overreacted a tad, but I think that bloggers get a high off of making people look bad. Anyway, no flamers, please, I retract my earlier statement. They make me upset and then I don't want to write anymore. :( No one wants that, I'm sure. My story isn't perfect and the beginning chapters are pretty awful, to be sure, but I think it's improved a lot, and I really love where it's going, so enjoy! Lots of excitement ahead. :)**  
><strong>

P.S. Whoever messaged me about the fanart, like I said, I need your email or some way to send it to you.

Also, **dialogue in italics is spoken in the Yautja language. This does not include single words italicized merely for emphasis. Use logic and you can easily tell the difference.**

* * *

><p><strong><strong><strong><em><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or the Alien franchise.<strong>_******

**Chapter 13**

Amber was shaken awake from a dreamless sleep, and her heart was pounding as she looked into the terrifying face that had become so familiar.

"We're here," he growled, "get up, quickly."

Amber felt herself sinking into a pit of dread. Her small world was about to be abruptly burst open. The consequences of fucking up here were horrifying. Syra would not hesitate to punish her for the slightest mistake.

She scrambled to her feet and reached for her small, leather coverings, only to find her wrist in an iron grip.

Syra shook his head and growled. "No clothing. Newly captured slaves cannot wear anything but a collar."

"C-collar?" Amber choked, and then gasped as Syra cuffed her lightly.

"Do not speak. Your language is foul to our ears. In public, I might speak to you, only to tell you what is required of you, and you may nod. In private, you can speak if you must, but choose your words carefully. A sweet tongue may get you food and a place in my bed, but anything else will keep you hungry with the other slaves."

Amber nodded fearfully, and pulled her hair away from her neck, allowing him to snap a thin torque around it. The metal was mirror-polished, and attached to an unobtrusive chain, which led to a soft handle, which Syra held. The collar had locked seamlessly, and was tight without being strangling. The feeling was still claustrophobic, and made her want to scream.

Syra tugged on the chain and Amber nearly fell on her face, she glared at him and he snickered, trilling at her softly. He tugged again, and she scrambled to keep up as he made a quick pace through the ship.

* * *

><p>"<em>Operator 937 requesting permission to set down in private landing pad. Carrying cargo of two pyode amedha, one collared, one caged. Final passenger of one Sijila royal, contained within her quarters. Request a squad equipped to deal with the cargo specified.<em>"

"_Commander Syra'thwei, your request will be acted out, a squad will be standing by._"

"_Good. ETA is five minutes._"

Syra sat back in his chair and finally exhaled all the air he'd been holding. He still expected to find censure with his people about Amber, but considering his position, he really had the freedom to do whatever he pauking well pleased. Anyone who felt differently could challenge him, if they had the balls. It was worth a bit of blood spilled to keep his little pet. She looked incredibly exotic at the moment, kneeling at his side, head bowed. Her hair fell around her in soft waves, and he wanted to touch it, feel it between his fingers.

Syra purred harshly and grabbed a handful of her hair. She exclaimed softly as he pulled her lips up to his and wrapped his mandibles around her jaw in a brief, intense kiss. He felt her heart rate increase and a shudder wracked her small form. Her hands clung to his arms and she went limp in his grasp.

After a few seconds, Syra pulled away and she slid back to the floor, looking dazed. Her lips were swollen and red, and her cheeks were flushed, making her even more arousing than before. Now he wanted to pauk her, and the fact that he couldn't severely annoyed him. The ship would land in just a few minutes, and while his position was very respected, pauking his pet in front of the entire landing squad was simply not done. Pauking in public was for mating between yautja; doing that with his pet would be incredibly offensive to most of his clan mates. There was no show in pauking an ooman, just perverse pleasure. Syra caught himself purring and cut it off abruptly with a harsh sound that was almost a growl.

He stood and watched with satisfaction as Amber hurried to stand as well. He said nothing to her, only headed for the ship's outer airlock. They reached the door and he stood to the side.

"On your knees," he ordered, with a quick motion of his hand. "They won't touch you without my permission, and you must never touch them. Above all, do not look them in the eye, or me when we are in public. Eyes to to the ground and do as I say, and your fate will be no worse than it is now."

She nodded and looked at the ground. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she wrung her hands nervously.

"One more thing," he said, showing her something. "This is a breathing apparatus. The air on this planet is breathable to your species, but only temporarily. This will filter the air to your planet's chemical levels."

The device he held was small and inconspicuous, the size of a small button. He knelt down and pulled her mouth open. With it on the tip of his finger, he pushed it all the way to the back of her throat, where it attached itself with a small sting that made her gag around his finger. He pulled his hand away with a snort of disgust and wiped it on her leg. He stood and attached his own mask, watching her swallow a few times, hesitantly. The air on the planet was not to his liking either, and he far preferred the filtered air of his mask.

Finally, the ship set down with a jolt, and Syra opened the airlock, greeted by five yautja, each of varying height and scale color. One of them was clearly female, at least a head taller than the rest, and a few inches over his own head at least. The squad leader approached Syra and bowed his head respectfully.

"_Commander Syra'thwei, Lieutenant Yeyinde reporting._"

Syra acknowledged him with a nod, and he continued.

"_The Leaders are expecting you directly. Shall we retrieve the ordered cargo of one pyode amedha? It is the one caged, I assume._"

Syra nodded. "_It is the one caged, through there._" He pointed to the appropriate room. "_As I mentioned, in the secondary quarters, there is a Sijila royal whom I picked up on a derelict ship infested with kiande amedha. Whatever the Leaders wish to do with her is fine, but I of course require a percentage of any ransom received. Handle her with caution,_" he finished with a warning tone.

"_Yes, Commander_."

"_When you're done, send the ship to maintenance to receive the latest upgrades._"

With that, Syra tugged the chain holding Amber and strode forward, past the yautja in the doorway.

* * *

><p>For a moment, light was all Amber could see; dazzling sunlight filled her vision, causing a painful reaction as her eyes struggled to adjust. Finally, shapes and colors began to appear, until at last she saw clearly. The world that filled her eyes was not what she'd expected, although she wasn't sure what she had expected. Teepees and bonfires? Towering skyscrapers and aliens in suits and ties?<p>

It was something in the middle, she found. There were metal buildings everywhere, some tall, some small, dome structures. There were no roads of any sort, but some of the aliens used different models of hovercraft to get around.

The aliens, the yautja, were everywhere, talking, laughing, but mostly fighting. Everywhere she looked, one of them was growling and clicking at another hostilely, or tussling on the ground in a ball of angry scales. Another thing she'd never really considered was the variety of the aliens. They varied in color, size, clothing, tone of voice, even the length of their hair-like appendages. At first glance, she thought Syra was fairly average in height, until she noticed the tallest aliens looked a bit different than the shorter ones. Their chests were a bit more developed, for one, and their musculature was slightly different. She finally realized they were female.

Looking again, this made Syra very much the tallest of the males around. Amber didn't know why that made her proud, but she almost wanted to preen. Looking around, Amber couldn't find any other humans, chained or otherwise. She wondered how many yautja had a poor human locked away for their pleasure.

Lost in thought, she was absently staring at a particularly short male, who was speaking to a female who completely dwarfed him. She couldn't help but smile a little at the height differential. Suddenly, the female turned and looked her straight in the eye. Amber's eyes widened and she quickly looked away, but not soon enough. The female caught Syra's attention with a growl and a few harsh clicks, and stalked over to them.

Amber couldn't tell Syra's expression beneath his mask, but she shivered in fear at his reaction to her disobedience. He hissed at the female, and she snarled at him, pointing at Amber. He looked at her for a moment, saying nothing. Then he turned back to the female and said something in harsh clicks. She was obviously not happy with that, and shoved him in the shoulder.

Syra reacted almost faster than Amber could see. He dropped Amber's chain and spun around, his long hair whirling around him. His foot landed on her knee and she dropped with a shriek. Then his fist connected squarely with her jaw and she landed to the side, spitting blood. He stood proudly above her body and clicked something rapidly. The female glared at him, but looked away and muttered something.

With that, Syra turned away, looking for something on the ground. Amber picked up her chain and handed it to him, looking at the ground. After a few long seconds, he took it from her hands and tugged lightly, continuing on as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

><p>Finally, Syra reached the Leaders' quarters, a large, metal structure, much like the others surrounding them. The doors slid open and a lone guard waved them through into a large room.<p>

The walls were covered in many valuable trophies of at least a hundred different species. All around, the Leaders chatted with each other, and the room was filled with clicks and laughter. When they noticed Syra's arrival, the room fell silent for a moment. Finally, Bakuub, the tallest among them, spoke.

"_Syra'thwei, your return is welcomed, as always. I hear you have fulfilled your mission and I am eager to hear your full report." He looked at Amber with amusement. "I see you have taken a liking to the pyode amedha. I hope your diversion does not die too quickly to your anger. They are so fragile, these creatures._"

"_My respects to you, Bakuub. I will gladly report of my adventures. This simple mission had some surprises, one of them being a few arbitrators flying a bit too close to our home._"

He waited for the angry clicks of the Leaders to subside.

"_I will tell you everything, but I desire to do so over a meal, and I don't wish to overexcite my pet. She is fragile, as you say. Bakuub, meet me at my home in two hours, and we shall discuss everything, including your desire for a live ooman, which still puzzles me._" Syra paused. "_Unless you've developed a desire for their sweet flesh as well._" He trilled and the other Leaders snickered at Bakuub.

Bakuub laughed. "_I'm afraid that mission was for anything but pleasure. But I shall tell you of it later, as you wish. Enjoy your pet, Commander._"

Syra grinned. "_There's no question of that, Leader Bakuub_."

The Leaders trilled, and Syra turned to leave. Amber quickly followed, clearly agitated by all the yautja in the room. Outside, he set a quick pace back to his home. The landing squad appeared to be finishing up, and nodded to him as he passed. Syra barely acknowledged them, eager to get inside and make use of the time he had alone before Bakuub arrived.

His home here was far more luxurious than his ship, although he spent very little of his time here. There were trophies adorning the walls, of course, including another kiande amedha queen's head. There were no yautja heads here, though. Some clan mates who'd visited had found them offensive, so he had removed them all to his ship. Besides the polished, white skulls, there were many more trophies, such as shiny, metal weapons and other useless sculptures. There were also tapestries he'd stolen from other planets, and even from the pyode amedha planet.

The floor was thickly carpeted in a dark red synthetic material, similar to fur, and his feet sunk into it. The feeling annoyed him. Syra preferred his ship, with metal floors and sparse luxuries, but as this was basically his vacation home, and luxury showed prosperity, he'd splurged on the amenities here. His irritation subsided when he saw Amber's reaction to all of his treasures. Over a couple hundred years, he'd accumulated a lot of pretty, but useless things. But Amber looked around wide-eyed, and hesitated to even enter a room with such luxury, as well she should, given her position. Syra puffed his chest proudly. What could she have seen on her own puny planet that could possibly compare to this?

"Do you like my home, pet?" he purred, pulling her closer to him.

She hesitated to speak, finally whispering, "Y-yes."

She looked at the floor, but he drew her gaze up.

"We have some time alone here, kwei. How would you care to spend it?"

"I... P-pleasing you, of course, n'yaka-de." She stumbled over the last word, but Syra was incredibly pleased with her response. Had he finally snapped that streak of rebellion?

He purred and grabbed her hips, lifting her up to meet his own hips, and grinding through his clothing. With one hand, he removed his mask. He moved to his bedroom, which contained an even larger pallet of furs than the one on his ship, and placed his mask in its place on the wall. He took off Amber's collar and dropped her on the furs with a grin. She looked like she couldn't decide whether to be scared or excited. Syra took off his armor and clothes, and turned off the lights with a click, and she decided on scared.

She sat upright and looked around nervously.

"Syra?" she whispered.

"That is not what you call me," he purred from across the room, and padded around behind her. "You call me n'yaka-de," he said in her ear.

She jumped and whipped around, feeling for him with her tiny hands.

"N'yaka-de," she whispered, "don't hurt me, please. I'm sorry about earlier, with the yautja, I was staring, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!" She sounded on the verge of tears, desperate to placate him.

He cut off her speech as he wrapped his hand around her neck and dipped down for a hot kiss. His mandibles involuntarily attempted to pull her even closer, and his tongue dipped down to her throat, desperate for her sweet taste. When he pulled away, she fell back on her elbows and gasped for breath, panting.

"Give me a taste of your honey, pet," Syra purred, flicking his tongue inside her ear until she moaned.

He laid down on the furs, pulling her on top of him. She felt around awkwardly for a minute, and he shuddered at the feel of her soft hands. She felt for his face, and when she found it, licked his tusks and sucked one of them into her mouth. Syra purred and squeezed her hips greedily. She cried in pain, but he ignored it. It was too much fun to handle her a bit roughly.

She moved down to his nipples and licked and sucked them as well. This put her pussy directly on his cock, something she noticed when he rubbed her with it lightly. She squeaked in surprise and tried to move off it, but he held her hips down and positioned his cock, before he thrust it in a few inches. To his surprise, she was dripping wet and her tight sex felt amazing. He thrust his hips a bit more, and she gasped, then choked on a delicious moan.

"Just- Right there... please..." she cried.

He went in and out like that, until he got bored and thrust farther, to the end of her channel. She didn't like that, and fell forward onto his chest, whimpering with pain. Abruptly, Syra became annoyed with her pitiful sounds, so he flipped her over and covered her mouth with his. His lust increased, fueled by his anger, and he pounded into her quickly. She tried to shriek in pain, but it ended up nothing more than a squeak, and her hands pressed against his chest, clawing with her short ooman nails.

He pulled his mouth away and hissed in pleasure. Her nails tickled his thick scales and he squeezed her breasts in response. With her mouth free, Amber screamed in pain and pleaded with him to stop. Syra hated her crying, and glared at her for a moment. He'd always hated it, but he was always conflicted on whether to comfort her or just to shut her up. Right now, she was ruining his brief time here with her sniveling. Didn't oomans ever learn to take a little pain without screaming and crying?

Finally, anger took over and Syra put his hand over her mouth and continued his rapid pace for a about ten minutes, until he finished with a harsh growl. He took his hand away and saw her cheeks were streaked with blood from his claws and her eyes were filled with pain. Why were oomans so weak? Sometimes it disgusted him, but on the other hand, protecting her filled him with pride. Protecting her from his own anger, however, was another thing entirely. He'd always been known to have intense mood swings, and something insignificant could change his attitude entirely in the space of a few seconds.

He looked down at Amber's small, shaking form and saw the damage he'd caused. He grew more annoyed thinking of how he'd have to heal her now. And he'd barely used his strength. Syra thought of all the times when his rage had completely consumed him, and thought of all that rage centered on Amber. The aftermath was really nothing more than pieces of her body scattered around. That thought upset him, but he knew it would probably happen eventually. He'd made a mistake in getting attached to her; she was nothing more than a pet, a diversion, as Bakuub had said.

Too many thoughts like that floated in his head and Syra growled, pulling out of Amber. She whimpered when he moved, but did nothing else. He lay on his back and grew annoyed when she didn't curl up next to him.

He pulled her arm, and she suddenly cried, "I'm sorry, master! I'll do everything you say from now on, I swear! I'll never look above the ground, whatever you want."

She thought he'd been punishing her. Apparently she could never please him entirely. She only wanted to please him when he punished her anyway, he thought cynically. He was nothing more than the lesser of two evils to her, why should he care if he hurt her a bit?

"Come here," he growled, and pulled her roughly into his side. She shivered and after a second, huddled into his warm flesh. He tried to pull her leg over his and she choked off a cry of pain. He left it with a sigh.

"You did nothing wrong earlier, kwei. I just enjoy a hard _fucking_ as you oomans put it. I also enjoy pain intensely. When you snivel and cry, it makes you look pathetic to me, and I can't understand how something that weak is still alive. It angers me on an instinctive level you can't even imagine. I want to pauk you until you either stop crying like a suckling or do what your kind should have done thousands of years ago and die off like the insects you are."

Tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away immediately.

"I'm sorry I'm not up to your fucking standards," she said harshly, pulling away from him. "_Humans_ aren't supposed to have gigantic dicks, and if you'd left me alone in the first place, I could have been happy with a hard fucking from a normal person instead of a disgusting, scaly freak!"

Syra sat up and roared, and she cowered, but held her ground. Unsatisfied, he backhanded her, feeling his hand connect with her cheekbone, nearly breaking it, but not quite. She screamed.

"Fuck you and fuck all of your pathetic friends!" she spat through a bloody mouth. "Just kill me already!"

At her words, Syra went silent and didn't move for a second. Her death flashed before his eyes again and he growled. He grabbed her throat and forced her eyes to his, though in the darkness, she could barely see him.

"You are _mine_! Cetanu can't help you, I am your master now. Your insolence is intolerable! You will regret your foolish words, ooman."

He saw a spark of fear in her eyes again, and he smiled grimly, before he released her and she dropped onto the furs. He growled deep in his chest, and she finally tried to back away. He snatched her again quickly, and snapped the collar back on. He pulled hard on the chain and she fell to the floor with a thud. She kicked and screamed as he dragged her out of the room, shrieking curses at him.

Syra went back to the entrance room, and pressed a button on the wall which lowered a cage from the ceiling. It was intended to display live kiande amedha, but they tended to make a disaster of the room, so it was rarely used for that purpose. He picked up Amber and caught up all her flailing appendages so she couldn't grab the bars, then thrust her inside the cage. He attached her chain inside the cage and backed out quickly, locking it just as she tried to claw him through the bars.

"I'll deal with you later," he promised, and raised the cage up to the ceiling again.

There was no floor to it, only metal bars, and she spit at him through them. He listened to her scream another barrage of insults, before he grew tired of listening to her and left the room. He still had to prepare for Bakuub's arrival.

* * *

><p>Amber fell silent after Syra left the room. Most of her anger left with him, and she was left to contemplate her fate, which was surely the point of this exercise. She gave up on berating herself this time. Even Syra had admitted that she'd done nothing wrong, and still he'd shoved his heavy hand over her mouth and raped her ruthlessly. She'd thought whatever life she'd have with him could be tolerable when he was considerate of her, almost kind sometimes. Now he'd basically said he instinctively hated her and wanted to cause her pain.<p>

What kind of a life could that be? She would rather be dead, but she knew he wouldn't let her go that easily. If she wasn't in this cage, she could easily find some weapon lying around and end it herself. But some part of her was still conflicted. Even now, she couldn't help but care about him. That day in the bath, when he'd told her some small part about his life, and how he'd killed so many of his kind, she'd started to sympathize with him. He seemed lonely, in a way, and Amber wanted to be his other half, his soul mate, the person that completed him. He was so obviously missing something, and he seemed to show his affection for her in his odd displays of kindness.

Amber recognized this as the mental disorder it probably was, but her feelings were still the same, no matter how much she wished otherwise. When Syra wasn't holding her softly, or giving her what was surely the most amazing sex ever, he was violent, ruthless, homicidal, and treated her like a careless possession. That was most of the time, since he always seemed to be angry at something, usually her, for some escape attempt or shouting well-deserved insults. Or for really nothing at all, like today.

As much as Amber intensely desired to fix what she wanted to see as a lonely, misunderstood individual, reality quelled her fantasy.

Her cheeks were scored and bloody from his claws, her eye had swollen shut, and blood still oozed in her lower regions, from reopened wounds. Her hips and breasts were clawed and bruised from his inconsiderate groping. He surely knew his own strength; he simply didn't care. All this was easy to forget when he magically healed her wounds and tucked her into his warm chest at night, but up here in this uncomfortable, humiliating position, with her wounds still dripping red blood to match the carpet, her outlook was somewhat modified.

Suicide usually occurred when an individual was truly without hope. Amber was nearing that point now, and she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with this homicidal, rage-prone alien as his slave. Not that her life would be very long anyway. He'd kill her in a fit of rage eventually, but Amber would rather end it on her own terms. She just wasn't sure yet.

This new culture and totally different race of people fascinated and excited her, and while they were hardly a welcoming group, all that she'd experienced here was more than any regular human could hope for in a hundred lifetimes. She wanted to see more, to know more, but not at the cost of being tortured at the whim of a psychotic freak. Amber was conflicted, and she felt the next few hours or days would decide her fate.

* * *

><p>"<em>Syra'thwei, I see you have settled in with little trouble. Has your pet angered you so swiftly<em>?" Bakuub motioned at the cage near the ceiling.

Syra clicked noncommittally. "_It is not important. We both owe each other explanations, as I remember. Let us share them over a over a roasted jar'ak and plentiful c'nlip._"

They headed into the dining area, and Syra made a point to ignore the gently swinging cage above him. Once they were settled in with meat and drink, Syra told his tale, of the Sijila ship that was infested with kiande amedha, and the two arbitrators who'd followed him and met a sad fate. He carefully left out all of his troubles with Amber, and her numerous escape attempts. It made him look foolish, and reputation here was equally as important as how you backed it up.

When Syra had finished, Bakuub at last began his own explanation of Syra's very odd mission.

"_You know, Commander, how the arbitrators grow in number once again, and while we keep them under control for the most part, they wander closer and closer to our home. If we lose the advantage of secrecy, the Elders will send their entire battleforce on us within weeks. Odds as they are now, we would be wiped out, or reduced enough in number to no longer be a problem to them. And so, we must grasp our advantage and wring it for all it's worth._" He paused.

Syra said, "_I still don't quite see where the pyode amedha fits in. How could those puny things be of use to us here?_"

Bakuub laughed. "_Puny they might be, but there's a certain parasite that has a liking for them._"

"_The kiande amedha? How would they be of use? They're practically mindless._"

"_Ah, but not quite. We think we may have devised a way to control them using their own pheromones. We may be able to synthesize them, but otherwise we can make their queen control them using her own pheromones. But first, we need the drones themselves._"

Bakuub paused to take a long drink of his c'nlip.

"_We have tried many different races, but the drones were never as efficient in body and keen of mind as they were when birthed from the pyode amedha, as they have always been in our kind's Blooding rituals. So, we required you to bring one pyode amedha to produce a single drone, in order for us to continue our experiments in pheromone control. If it works out, we will have other pyode amedha brought in, or simply take the eggs to them and create a controlled army. This army, we can use to wipe out the Elders and their supporters, and finally return from our exile here._"

Syra nodded in understanding. "_It makes sense. An army of disposable killing machines would be the final straw in this dragging conflict. But why did you request this mission of me?_"

Bakuub replied, "_At the moment, we are still in the beginning stages of this plan, and we required a certain amount of discretion and secrecy, with the pyode amedha and our clanmates, respectively. I told the other Leaders that, of course, you could be trusted to carry it out with proficiency and haste. And here we are. We must take care of the immediate arbitrator problem though. I will go now and set a bounty for their skulls. That should diminish their ranks for now. I will leave you now. You must want for some time to rest. You've hardly been here these past few years, I'm sure you'd like to get reacquainted with the recent female population._"

Bakuub trilled at his own remark, and proceeded to show himself out. Meanwhile, Syra sat back and contemplated the information he'd just received. None of it was of any immediate consequence. In fact, it was possible that nothing could happen for years, decades even, although that was a stretch. Tensions were stressed, but out here in deep space, where Syra doubted even the gods continued to care, things moved more slowly. Wars took place over decades, or even centuries, if the fighting became the kind it was now. Guerrilla warfare was slow and subtle, and it could stretch out until nearly all those involved were dead and gone. But some, like Syra and Bakuub, still remembered, and as long as they lived, the war would continue, or until they finally achieved their victory.

If Bakuub truly managed to efficiently weaponize the kiande amedha, however, everything would change in the space of a year, or even a few months. They could be back in power, out of exile, that fast. It was an exciting prospect. But still, potentially decades away. Meanwhile, Syra had all the time in the world to do exactly what he'd been doing for the past hundred years at least. That was not an exciting thought.

He continually felt there was something missing from his life, but he hadn't given it another thought with Amber tucked into his chest, her soft pulse soothing him into the most restful slumber he'd ever experienced. yautja weren't supposed to have longterm mates. As far as most yautja were concerned, they pauked and then a suckling fell out, whom the female was primarily responsible for, something the males greatly appreciated.

As far as companionship, both males and females could become solid friends, such as he and Bakuub, but it never went farther than that. There were rumored cases of yautja mating for life, but they were usually rogues and led their solitary lives together, separated from the main population and culture. While Syra enjoyed his very long trips off planet, he still appreciated having a home filled with fellow yautja and a familiar environment. A hermit's life was not for him. Nor did the females of his race interest him beyond raw sex, and hardly that anymore. He'd developed a taste in the perverse, and that wasn't likely to change.

But in order to satisfy that desire, he had to have a pet, and that pet presented a problem. She was insolent, rebellious, disrespectful, and though some of those were considered good qualities among his race, she completely nulled them out with her fits of ooman weakness. Not to mention, she was a slave, and any yautja qualities should be stamped out immediately, no matter how much he respected them, which, admittedly, was not very much. It was hard to respect any ooman, especially their females.

Syra could not understand their purpose in society. They were not as strong as the men, and while their intelligence was comparable, they were almost never trained or educated enough for it to count. As far as Syra could tell, their purpose was to look pretty and have children. Their race was deteriorating anyway, as he saw it, and even the men seemed to have little purpose. They were hardly a warrior race, or at least, they hadn't been for a very long time. They had lost that quality, supposedly in favor of science and technology, and yet they hadn't even developed space travel, were still at least a hundred years away, in fact.

It was a pointless society, their only use being food for the kiande amedha and the yautja Blooding ceremonies. But still, he couldn't really bear the thought of just killing Amber. His life was consumed by loneliness, though that was mostly a personal choice, but his silly ooman pet made him feel proud; of his own ability to protect her, and that he alone had such an exotic pet. She was really quite beautiful, and sometimes he thought she actually cared for him. That one time, when she'd leaped into his training with the drones, she'd seemed truly concerned. That concern could merely be of losing her protector, he supposed, but surely she must care for him in some way?

He'd shown her pain and pleasure beyond anything any stupid ooman could manage, and she'd thrown in all back in his face today. But he'd noticed that, like him, Amber was prone to fits of anger, so perhaps she hadn't meant her words. He couldn't let her defy him like that with no punishment, but all punishment and no reward was becoming tiring, and while her careless demand for him to end her life showed that she was close to breaking, there was a fine line between and obedient and a broken pet. He'd have to think of something that would destroy her rebellion, but not turn her into his mindless puppet. Or perhaps, she was simply no longer worth the trouble. That possibility was looking sweeter by the minute.

* * *

><p>Amber was shaken roughly from a doze, only to be dragged from her cage. She screamed in pain and fear as her body was dragged across the bars onto the floor. Looking up, she discovered her eye was swollen shut, and through the other, she could see Syra looking down in disgust. At least she thought it was disgust, for he had donned his faceless mask again. He knelt beside her, and she scrambled back instinctively.<p>

"Have you learned anything, ooman?"

Amber hesitated, almost ready to say yes, she had learned her lesson. Then he would leave her alone for a minute, and she would take a knife and end it all.

But he gave her no time to answer, responding himself, "I didn't think so. Your insolence has gone too far this time, and I grow tired of your irritation. You will never learn, and there are other, more obedient pets to choose from."

Amber tried to say something, but choked on the collar as it tightened over her throat and Syra dragged her out of room. Blinding light hit only one of her eyes this time, but the ground was as rugged and unforgiving as before. She tried to scream something, anything to make him stop, but could only pull the metal from her throat long enough to drag in a short breath and cough it out again.

After a minute, Syra stopped, and the sun was momentarily blocked by a metal roof. Behind the ringing in her ears, Amber could hear the sound of pitiful moans and some hysterical crying. Syra ignored her for a minute, engaged in harsh conversation with another yautja. Weakly, Amber rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. She was horrified with the sight before her eyes.

In a large, metal cage, there were at least 10 humans, all naked, covered in mud and other things she tried not to imagine. They were mostly female, with perhaps one or two males, though she could hardly tell underneath the filth that surrounded them. It was their cries she had heard, moments earlier. In a couple other cages, there were various people of other races, all fairly humanoid, and in the same condition as the humans. The aliens were strangely quieter, as if they knew and accepted their fate here.

Above her, the two yautja finished their conversation, and she was yanked closer to the cages as they moved to view the merchandise, so to speak. Finally, Syra pointed at one of the humans, and the other yautja laughed. He unfolded something that looked suspiciously like a cattle prod and opened the cage door. All the humans scrambled towards the back of the cage, eying him fearfully. The yautja moved forward and, quick as lightning, snatched the girl Syra had pointed to. He had grabbed her hair, and she screamed in the highest pitch Amber had ever heard someone scream. When she was out of the cage, the yautja released her, before jabbing her with his prod until she fell to the ground with a shriek.

Up close, Amber thought she couldn't be more than 12 years old She was horrified, and tears came to her eyes at the thought of what the poor girl had suffered. Syra leaned down and snatched her by the throat, bringing her face to face with him. Amber sympathized, knowing exactly how terrifying that position was, feet dangling, nothing to hold onto but his massive hand as it nearly strangled you.

"Open your mouth," he ordered in a snarl.

The girl complied, barely. Her whole body shook with fear. He looked for a moment, and then he fingered her hair roughly, seeming unsatisfied with her tangled locks. Finally, he dropped her, barely setting her feet on the ground before he released her neck. She crumpled to the ground without a sound.

He said something to the other yautja, and he nodded and began to attach a thin collar around the girl's neck.

Amber's eyes widened. He was really doing this. He was going to throw her away like garbage and move right on to brutally abusing this little girl, not more than a child. She couldn't let him.

"N'yaka-de," she began, and choked at the hoarseness of her abused throat. He turned to look down at her. "N'yaka-de, please," she rasped, "don't do this. I swear on my mother's grave, on everything I hold dear, I'll never disobey you again. I'll do everything to please you, n'yaka-de, anything you want, even if it kills me. Please, n'yaka-de, _please!_" Her voice cracked, becoming a high-pitched whisper.

He was silent for a moment, his head cocked to one side, considering. The yautja had finished collaring the girl, and waited impatiently. Finally, Syra knelt down, grabbing her jaw and looking her straight in the eye.

"You know what I can do if you disobey me. Those pathetic humans mean nothing to me, I would use them just as easily as I use you. If you ever insult or disobey me again, I will toss you in with the rest of your stinking kind and find something more obedient to replace you."

Amber nodded quickly, her eyes wide. Syra dropped her and looked to the yautja, who clicked something impatiently. He was about to respond, when Amber interrupted.

"N'yaka-de, please don't leave that girl here! She'd only a child, she won't survive another week like this!"

Both yautja looked at her. Syra said harshly, "I thought you didn't want me to fuck the girl. What else would I do with her?"

Amber flinched. "I-I can take care of her." Her voice quavered at first, but became steady. "And she can serve you in some other way, surely you can use a slave for something else."

The other yautja laughed, trilling loudly in amusement. Syra said nothing, however. Finally, he growled and turned to the other yautja, clicking something. The other looked surprised, but when Syra snarled at him, he growled and reached for some kind of hose.

He barked at the girl, "Up, now!"

She stood on quivering legs, before she was hit with a powerful stream of water that made her shriek and almost fall over. The bastard ordered her to turn around, and hosed her off thoroughly. By the time he was finished, the girl looked blue and shivered uncontrollably. He handed the chain on her collar to Syra, and Syra tapped something on his wrist computer, presumably paying for the slave.

"Come on," Syra barked at both of them, heading back to his home.

Amber hugged the girl as they ran to keep up with his long legs. She whispered, "thank you," in Amber's ear.

At that moment, she realized she couldn't possibly end her life now. She had to make sure this poor girl wasn't thrown back with those other hopeless slaves, sold off to some terrifying master. Amber would do everything she could now to stay alive, and to make sure she got this girl back to Earth, where she belonged.

* * *

><p>Well, there it is. I'm sick of finding all the yautja words I used, so look them up if you don't know them. :P<p>

Thanks to all the people who left nice reviews, I love your feedback and your questions, and I hope I can keep entertaining you for a long time. Bye for now. :)


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